So many elves of selves within me lie,
Those whom the world has wrought
And some who gave me birth have sought
To make me think and seem alike and seek
What others say and do and teach and preach
Like pearls inset in jeweled class and creed.
Then, there is the workplace bonhomie, me
Jovial, yet canny, trusting neither friend nor foe
Ever watchful, waiting for a chance to score
When Life’s a race to run and reach the goals
Many masks are worn to play these roles
And games that Fate and Fortune decree.
Siblings, cousins, friends, all people be
A sieve through which these many selves can see
A mirror maze of filtered bonds of being
Some a perfect fit, others a case of mix and match
Cross match, potpourri, and a cauldron of one’s selves
Bonds that are forged in likeness, myriad images of myself.
Is there a time and place when I could kill these elves
That follow me from birth to death and be just plain me,
unfettered, free, feeling, living, finding everything anew?
Kick out the labyrinth of time’s chicanery
Tamed and trained to be, to have, to hold
Forged at the blacksmith’s wheel like another’s tool
Cloned to think alike and be like the rest that bide
In narrow prisms of altered selves in other selves combined.
There are times when other forces move me
Beyond these elves of self and cast me
On the banks of distant, desolate, sandy shores
In shallow waters, where the ebbing tide
And sudden stillness of the vast slack sea
Strangles me, sans elves, sans thought, sans everything.
Sonali Wijeratne