Beginning Nowhere
A poem of existence
Some things begin nowhere — they reluctantly exist to exist because a being we don’t know said so or the big bang dropped them from a void, empty like a wintry park bench or the frozen narcissistic heart or a black hole from nowhere to nowhere.
Some of us are born in no land, we have no genesis, no beginning, no name, no completion, biology decreed our existence leaving us to puzzle out the rest alone, or wishing to be alone because being with others is too much to bear when we have no genesis to call our own.
We search for the meaning of our existence when there is none — for some, yes, but not us, we are the orphaned and forgotten, the lost, never to be found — there are no answers — No! there are no questions because we are the unknowns.
With no start, where is our end?
This poem speaks of my feeling of being untethered, unconnected, and unassociated due, I imagine, to the death of my mother when I was three-months-old. In spite of having a father and sisters, I always felt as though I were an orphan, solitary in spite of not being physically alone, but perhaps emotionally alone since my father had strong narcissistic tendencies and my older sisters left home as soon as they could.
In response to this Genesis prompt by David S.:
