Instinct

by nourayasmine   May 24, 2020


Do you think about it at all?

That we are trapped. There's nothing
ahead, and nothing back.

Trapped that we didn't
get a say in it.
We let out our first cry,
unaware.

We suckled in silence,
learnt to walk,
to say "mama"
and "papa", and the name
of our favorite aunt.
We wanted toys,
then books,
then beer,
then a diamond ring.
It was all planned and expected.

We laughed a bit.
We spent time wondering
why and how we got
to be here.

Then a couple of years
later, we watched
a little red-bodied newly-born
coming out of a womb,
letting out their first cry.
We chose a name for them,
like ours was chosen.
We taught them to walk,
bought them
toys, then books, then hugged
them goodbye for college.

Then laughed a bit more,

until our morning routine
started with capsules.
Until there was
a need for a walking stick
or a wheelchair.

Then we went back into nothing.

We didn't even get a say
in how it all must end.

I'm trapped.

I think about it all the time.

3


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    I have a hard time dealing with the "helplessness" of it all. In the past few months, this has weighed more on my mind. It's hard to process and cope with that reality of being introduced to this world, of knowing it's inevitable that our life will end some day, and the cycle continues. You captured this so well, the growing up then returning to dependence. The instinct to create, the expectations of society, of being active members yet coming back to a sense of nothingness. A sense of loss even.

    Felt this poem so much.

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