This One Has No Name by KV Sart

We lie together in the morning,

Her head on my shoulder,

My arm around her body,

Wrist over her waist,

Our hands together.

And slowly,

As she falls back to sleep,

Her grip slacks,

Her hand twitches,

Then her body.

The phone alarm sounds.

She looks up at me.

Her face is naked;

Nothing over the eyelids,

Nothing over the lips,

Nothing over the cheeks,

Nothing to tame the hair.

She says, “I have to get ready”.

She rolls out of bed.

I watch her wrap her naked body.

She walks out of the room.

I fade in and out of dreams.

I wake myself with words,

Forgetting the visions as quickly as they appear.

Now she is wearing societies norms.

She sprays herself with chemicals.

She rubs herself with plant matter,

And again she lies with me.

She kisses me,

And she says, “I have to go to work”.

They say that poetry should not be clouded by emotion.

It clutters the process which poetry is meant to express.

They make it a rule of form.

Such rules are taught at universities.

But,

Everything is clouded by emotion.

Emotionless poetry,

Is like objective science.

It ignores what it means to perceive.

It ignores what it means to be human.

I wish I was black,

I wish I was white,
I wish I was asian,
I wish I was mexican,

I wish I could neatly define myself.

I wish I could hit a home run,

I wish I could dunk a basketball,

I wish I could break a wooden board.

But,

I am not black.

I am not white.
I am not asian,
I am not mexican.

I am,

In as many ways as I am not,

Me.

This one has no name.

The empty space,

That we try to erase,

That brings us face to face,

With the reality of ourselves.

And,

Slowly we define,

The places left behind,

Tying ourselves in binds,

Putting fear ahead of truth.

But,

The truth we seek,

We place beneath our feet,

As we walk proudly through the street,

Over the broken concrete.

And,

We see a face in the looking glass,

Smelling…reeking of the past,

And all the people we pass,

See none of what we see.

I do not regard these statements

As in any way final proof of my views,

But simply as a conclusion from empirical premises

Which I would like to submit to the consideration of the audience(1)

(1) Excerpt plagiarized from the Conclusion chapter of C.G. Jung's, Synchronicity