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A relationship of trust, a journey of change.
Two Poems, by Nick Diamand
Holes
I feel I’m getting more porous
As I grow up.
As if my experiences
Drill tiny little holes into my beingness
On their way to my reservoir of self.
I used to be able to plug the holes
And stay together.
Now, it seems I cannot
Or, perhaps, choose not
For I don’t seem to be falling apart.
Maybe I’m falling together,
Maybe I’m finally allowing
The air of life to breathe me.
It does feel a little strange,
A little draughty
And I do wonder what I look like to others-
Full of holes.
But I think if I had my druthers
I’d rather be wholy than not.
Questionmarks
Questionmarks as big as the universe
Swirl about me
And all I can do
Is note that the dot
Is not perfectly round!
