“flight from self”

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.

.