Questions In The Mind Of A Poet While She Washes Her Floors

Questions In The Mind Of A Poet While She Washes Her Floors
Will obedience leave me unknown to myself, stranded?

Is it enough for me to know where I’m from?

If I do more truth-telling will I be happier with what I say?

If I had three days to live would I still be sensible?

Is the break between my feelings and my memory
the reason I’m unable to sustain rage?

Am I a peninsula slowly turning into an island?

If I grew up gazing at the ocean would I think
life came in waves?

If I were a nomad would I measure time
by the length of a footstep?

If I can see a cup drop to the floor and shatter
why can’t I see it gather itself back together?

If a surgeon cut out my mistakes
would the scar be under my heart?

How much time will I spend protecting myself
from what the people I love call love?

Would my desires feel different if I lived forever?

Will my desires destroy my politics?

Is taboo sex the ultimate aphrodisiac?

If I fall in love with the wrong person
How do I learn to un-in love myself?

Can I make my intuition into a divining rod?

Is music the closest I can get to God?

How many of these questions will remain
when I kneel to wash my floors again?
– Elena Georgiou
running after my hat

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2 thoughts on “Questions In The Mind Of A Poet While She Washes Her Floors

  1. I do love this poem. As much as I love questions, I am tired of asking myself the same questions sometimes. Or perhaps of still wanting a definitive answer.

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  2. I came across this in an email that I sent to you. As soon as I found it, I couldn’t remember what reason I had for searching the emails in the first place.

    I think all sorts of thinks about the status of my thinking. Many of the things are questions. I LOVE questions. I also LOVE quiet and peace, which is definitely question-less. One nearly always is minus the other, and can end up all or nothing, one extreme or the other. What would life be like if I were not ‘seeking’, or accidentally bumping into and then noticing, along the way? Would I be any more or less? Maybe it’s not that and just a shift in attention. Sometimes I get annoyed at the same ‘questions’. Other times I smile and I am grateful for the question as it flashes me to what I need, in my memory. I”m just avoiding the desire of the definitive answer like the plague!

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