This came out of me last night as I was trying to sleep. Naturally, I have to quote the source of the inspiration
“The shadow-past is shaped by everything that never happened” (Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces)
What I am
The music that I never heard,
The song that I never sang
The path that I never took
The words that I never spoke,
The man that I never married
The dance that I did not learn.
I could have been that dancer,
That pianist or that singer
I could have been a poet,
A writer or a painter.
I could have been his wife
Domesticated and satiated,
Like a frog in a well
Blind to the village.
All the things that I could have
been but never dared.
Regrets beckon like the siren’s song
But then the winds of change
Blow me away to the horizon.
My life is shaped by all the things
That never happened.
I am the pause between words,
The silence inside a song
I am the space between two steps
I am the empty hole in your heart
I am the air inside an earthen pot.
I am all of that and more,
All the things I never thought I would be,
And all the things I say I am not.