I’ve been reading about consciousness and identity, and how we all eventually become stardust, from which new stuff is made. I’m grateful to my friend Dave who addressed this issue, and allowed me to post it for this Monday’s Poem of the Week.
Sand Dune Little bits of carbon leave my body on my breath Exhalation is divorce, a tiny partial death Exfoliation too, I lose the surface of myself Pieces of my body gone, but whole in perfect health Soon to be a part of me, the water in my drinking glass How soon is soon, how me is me, are questions that I’m moved to ask Are we a single being when the water’s sitting in my mouth? What about a minute later, when it’s traveled further south? I’m mostly water, but I drink and sweat and so it comes and goes The contents of my bladder, still myself or not, who knows? Me and what I’ve eaten lately: many things, or only one? It’s hard to say exactly when our group identity’s begun I have a sort of understanding what I mean when I say “me” But what about what’s in my lungs as I absorb the things I breathe? The CO2 that’s in my blood, just visiting, so does it count? Perhaps I should deduct some kind of base statistical amount Ownership is fleeting, always claiming and divesting The biologic stock exchange, excreting and digesting At any given moment many cells have pending bargains And so my current holdings have these somewhat blurry margins Identity is tricky and it’s fluid and it’s hazy To try to draw a solid line could slowly drive you crazy As for why I care, it’s put my diet into disarray Without some firm criteria, I don’t know what I weigh |
This is great! I love the playfulness with underlying big questions.