She built a Tower
Of someone with no needs
Of someone with no voice
Of someone with clouds and confusion
Keeping her wandering and lost
Of someone, who simply
Wasn’t there
.
The Tower kept her doubting
Of what she felt, what she saw, what she heard
Echoes and wraiths chanting
You can’t really think that you know
You can’t really think that you need
You can’t really think that you want
You can’t really think
That you’re real
.
This Tower shamed her inkling, calling it projection
This Tower shamed her receptivity, calling it emptiness
This Tower shamed her process
Of feeling the way through, a body’s knowing, calling it lack of vision
This Tower shamed her power of presence,
The release of personal desire and drive, calling it
Impotence
.
Now somehow, the bricks, they started to crumble
Likely through diligent mirrors, hard-working gnawers
And the uncontrollable effectiveness
Of the electric bolt blowing
The top of her pretty Tower
All those perfect bricks
Crumbling
Tumbling
Falling
Down
.
Falling
No stranger to the process was she
In fact she’d stayed in successive destructions
Watching her flesh dissolve along with the skin of her worlds
This time, however
She realized she did not want to vanish
This time
She realized she could jump
And watch the massive dismemberment
Of a Tower needed no more
She could watch it, standing
On loamy, fresh earth
Planting seeds with the electric fertility
Reveling in the rumbling
Shaking through her tissues
Allowing herself to be
As it all
Came crashing
Down
.
Standing there
At the burning edges of her old realities
Looking down and onto a great mystery
A great risk
Not knowing
Never knowing
If she’d survive the fall
This time, however
She knew it had to be different
And stepping off the dissolving parapet
She dove
Laughing
Finally laughing
From her Tower
Of no more
Letting Go 