The Butterfly Under Glass Is No Longer Interesting, by Debi Swim

The Butterfly Under Glass Is No Longer Interesting
by Debi Swim

Know thyself
someone said
I wonder
is it possible
or necessary
or a selfish conceit
this looking inward, searching
who I am, what I am, Why I am
while picking lint from
my belly button and marveling
at lines on my palms
and bumps on my head
getting to know the id
of me.
I’m just me … a conglomerate
of experiences, reactions,
feelings, assumptions,
beliefs, evidences of the senses,
superstition, make believe, desire,
envy, imitation, a chowder of
sweet innocence and carnal thoughts,
a collage of mixed art media,
a farraginous collection
of aggregated
deceit and truth
I’m simply not so simple
to understand, dissect, explain,
sort, file, label, or pin down.

Note: Written in response to Red Wolf Poems, Prompt 116:

“What is self, if I may ask. Does it reside in the mind and manifest as personality or intelligence? Does it exceed the mind or does the mind contain it? The kind of philosophy you espouse, is it important as an expression of the self you possess?”

Debi Swim writes primarily to prompts. She is a wife, mother, grandmother and happy WV poet. Blogs at georgeplacepoetrybydebiswim.

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