Clutter

It’s hard to find me
In the clutter.

Look carefully
At what I do
And yearn to do.

But that is not me.

Search for me
In my poetry and prose
But all you’ll map is
The imprint of my soul.

I am not my
Logic
Or IQ.

Not in my laughter
Smile
Or tears.

Not in my speech
Heartbeat
Or fears.

I am undiscovered in
Physical or
Emotional
Wounds.

I am not merely flesh
Nor spirit.

I am not whole in my thoughts
Nor complete in my expressions.

You cannot fully know me
By those who love
Or fear me.

All this is
Clutter.

I know this
To be true…

Because I’ve been
In the hunt
All my life.