Cement Shoes

I do not know my self yet.

Do you not know it too?

Defining dreams pours cement in my shoes

That makes it hard to move.

I chisel at my ankles.

I wiggle my toes loose

And slip away with shallow scrapes

That wandering heals anew.

I swim in wordless waters.

I run through salt-flecked air.

I channel why and wonder how

And if I’ll find me – where?

When priers ask, “What do you do?”

I’d like to tell them true.

I do my best –

Fulfilled, bereft.

I change.

And how ‘bout you?