Twigs
and mud
They
gave me a name at birth
and
I’ve answered to it ever since.
Sometimes
when called upon I wonder –
who
is that masked man anyway?
Maybe
I’m one of God’s sparrows
settled
into a nest of twigs and mud.
The
truth is I’ve never learned
who
I am; only my habits.
As
I meticulously strive to make certain
I
am never a surprise to myself.
At
my birth they wrote down who I am.
I’ve
lived a long life under that name
and
yet, still, a mystery I remain,
unto
myself and every other.
O
child of God, direct your gaze inward
and confront the riddle
of who you are.
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