WHEM I BECAME MORE THAN MYSELF

No one likes my poetry but I do. This and all of my poems are just for me shared.

It is almost too long ago to recall�"

the time before I was father,

when I was merely a man,

a figure, still and singular,

standing in a field of quiet light.

The children were there,

dim silhouettes beyond the fence,

vague as clouds drifting at dusk,

their shapes unreal,

like memories not yet lived.

I can’t remember when I turned�"

my heel grinding stalk and soil,

my body shifting,

the way a weathered sign will twist

in the breath of a changing wind.

No, I don’t remember

the walk from center to edge,

or how the fence cracked open

like the fault line between worlds�"

only that somehow,

I stepped beyond myself.

And they�"

they rushed toward me,

not as angels or burdens,

but as something raw,

something running�"

like broken eggs across skin,

warm, viscous, streaked with life.

I do not remember deciding.

I only know

there was a moment I was no longer one�"

but many.

As if I'd flung my name

into their chests,

and they echoed it back as heartbeat.

And in that holy, reckless act,

I stood outside the world

and then, like a god�"

trembling,

I turned and brought them in.

:: 04.13.2025 ::

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

I stepped beyond myself

What an incredible feeling that must have been. This scene played out beautifully. You have written some marvelous poetry. Don’t do yourself down EPR.

Chris