30 August 2015

I envy myselves

I read the first few chapters of a book about infertility this morning. Not a science-y book, but a soulful one. The author has written some poetry in it, and I found myself inspired to write the following. I give no further comment.

I wonder if it’s possible to envy myself

not my present self,
            rather my parallel selves

I can feel echoes of my other lives
            as they go about doing their parallel tasks
Attending parallel events and feeling parallel feelings
They move about, living their parallel lives
            never knowing my part in their parallel dramas

As I sleep I can almost hear their parallel activities
I stir at night and wonder
            what my parallel selves are up to
Perhaps my parallel lives are unaware of my present struggles
Perhaps my parallel personalities have gone unshaped
by my present experiences

When I wake every few hours
            to the busy-body behaviors of parallel persons
                        I feel alone
            knowing somehow that they are not

My parallel selves may be as depressed and affected by life as I am
but I am not waking in the night to the soft cries from cradles
that prompt my parallel persons out of their parallel beds

I am waking to echoes of parallel cries

            that may never pierce my present dimension