Halfway up the mountain I fall (again)


Tumbling backward






Crashing into trees


(that would be you and me)


Rudeness overtakes me,


I cannot breathe as I try to defend and fend a way out of Us and Them…




Bested by the very anger and pain I seek to soothe in the world –


And am thrown out.




This is not my home.



No longer on the Mountain, I continue to fall —


Spinning and bumping into the places of my childhoods –


What, you only had one?



Echoes of conversations bleed through from voices long ago:


Where are you from?


No really, where are you from?

i live here.




No, where are you from?

i live here.


No, Little:

Girl, Gal, Sweetie – (pick one)


Or No, Silly, (if they are being kind)


(as if silly was kind for anything but clowns),




or Stop That Back-talk, if they were not… being kind.




Where are your people from?




My people?






I have people?




But the real message is:




You don’t belong here.




Where are you from?




And without skillful means, i am a sawdust doll with no port of call


And as I tumble and fall –


Lost in it all –




The ‘you don’t belong here’








Where are you from?




Gravity takes over.




Where are you from?




Earth. I am from Earth.





About eteal

Reverend Teal is a minister, chaplain, artist and storyteller. She specializes in the human-animal bond and all its healing aspects.
This entry was posted in Poems and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Falling

  1. Marie Marfia says:

    That’s so lovely.

  2. Rob Spiegel says:

    This is beautiful. Thanks.

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