As I sit here at the age of four score and six
Staring at the cliff face of my life
Unable to get over it, under it, round it
Stood here motionless, speechless, deaf
Unable to move, to speak, to hear, to breath
A whisper of wind from afar flows through my mind
And asks who am I?
Am I who I think I am?
The person I’ve grown up to be?
Tall, strong of stout build
A man amongst men
A worker, a father, a husband and a brother
Or is there someone else, someone hidden?
Beneath this exterior of masculinity that is on display
Have I been shaped by society to be what they expect me to be?
And not who I really am?
In order to be a part of society and not apart from it
This society that demands I portray myself in this way
Without asking me who I am?
Is this shell I inhibit merely a cascading façade from a lifetime of years
A shell that has been worked on and built into an exterior
That merely serves to hide the torrent of tears that flow inside
From a life of wandering the soil of this planet
Whilst wondering where I belong in the universe
Searching for who I am, for the person inside, searching for the real me
But as I search the vast universe that contains so many answers
I never find the ones I look for
And never know who I am
For deep inside of me is the real me
But it is suppressed deep, deep down
Like the skeleton of a dead whale
Lying, deep, deep down at the bottom of the sea
For no one to see
This real me
And not even me
Can see the real me