We don’t know ourselves,
Until we have to go looking
For something hidden,
As if it’s gone missing,
We dig through ancestry,
To try to construct,
By deconstructing identity,
We look up,
Hands clasped,
Always searching out,
When the answer,
Rests within.
Published by Vanessa
Mother, WRITER, artist, student, dreamer, civil and human rights activist,
humanitarian, minister in process, mystic, sentient being.
I write to remember; I write to discover; I write to understand; in order to be closer/higher/connected.
View all posts by Vanessa
Interesting poem 🙂
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