we submit ourselves in guise
resolute within
although questioning
always fearful, ne’er tearful
and sorely apprehensive
from which we have developed
pattern to routine
one individual, then two
and soon, a chain reaction
it’s drab and dull, you’d complain
one other curse to face
that we all acquire at birth
.
A more recent treatment of the above, “flight revisited”
We cloak ourselves in practiced guise,
resolute beneath the hush—
a fortress of questioning silence,
fear worn like threadbare armour,
not wept but weathered.
Apprehension, the quiet inheritance,
sculpts routine from shadow.
One becomes two,
then many—the murmuring chain
forged in mimicry.
It drones in tones of beige and duty,
you name it dull,
but the ritual is ritual because
we’re born into its design.
This curse—not shouted,
but etched.
The birthmark of belonging,
sealed before choice finds breath.
.