There are so many ways I have changed.
So many versions of me
They seem to be
Lives themselves.
Yet still the core of me remains
Colourful, uncomfortable and awkward,
Hopeful, loving and untoward.
Where is the wisdom in this?
Where is the continuing presence
With lessons learned?
How can I get it wrong again and again?
Or is it right?
Where is that grain of sand, that grain of me
So tiny
Yet so essential
As to be my mountain of Self;
The strength
To hold all this coherent?