wrestling with an impression of
wrestling with an impression of myself,
confidence scant and creativity diluted,
I found solace in the arms of a soldier who decided
my dreams encompassed all the world-
just not the war he was fighting.
he released me into bleakness.
transformed into a definitive fingerprint,
confidence brimming and creativity reborn,
I found solace in the words of an ink pen and promises of a lost candidate who taught me
it was okay for my dreams to encompass all the world.
I am a microcosm.
I am a coagulation of learned experience.
I am, all in twelve months' time, existing.
This poem is about:
Me
My country
Our world