PERSONA NON GRATA
Something in ‘me’ and ‘my’ and ‘I’
incurs disapprobation
both from grim-purposed radicals
and seekers steeped in contemplation.
They feel, it seems, the poets’ voice
of all most needs to purge the ego.
Who’s then to sing of gods, world, work
and love, and of one’s fellow?
I find the narrow mirror strip
inside the central cell of me
turns out sometimes to be a door
from my identity to all Identity.
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