Georgia Cranko
...a beautifully volatile and disabled existence of raw humanity, art and activism...
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Poetry

[...motion in stagnation]

1.02.2016
Early morning,
A map is already crumpled in my shaking hand,
Coffee dripping from my lips-
Am I really here?
Are you really there? –
My mind is amiss.
And my feet are heavy.
Lifeless.
 
Finding.
Breaking.
Learning.
Fixing.
Apologising.
Forgiving.
Forgiving.
 
This lifetime is filled with stagnation:
Laying down,
Getting up,
Running late,
Being lost,
Finding it.
Losing it,
And then really losing it.
(…Then finding it again when there’s no alternative)
 
Aching bones, muscles longing for bed –
Did I sleep last night?
What have you been dreaming? –
 
Everything is dusty (nothing is clear).
I try to erase what I have already crossed out,
In motion, but not driven.
Alive, but not living.
 
I wish I could feel the sturdiness of my bones,
Like I wish I could feel the certainty of my life.
But I am too accident-prone.
 
I will my ligaments to hold,
My armour to stay strong,
Just long enough to make a life,
A proper life that is deliberate (not just inadvertent).
Georgia Cranko