How does one die to self?
Or shut out the impulse of inhaling
While panicked from the exhale?
How do I let it go?
Rain is a welcomed baptism.
Simple to wash dirt from
the face and from under fingernails
Looking into the pawn shop window
I traced the reflection of my face
With my finger on the glass.
I traced my body,
But my soul could not be outlined,
So I tucked it back inside my
Jacket pocket in case I needed it
The next time around the block.
by Aimee Wray
joyinamadworld.com 