What does it mean to be a whole person?
He toils away
his days tossed like the dirty laundry
that’s left next to the hamper.
Not an ounce of passion
pulses through his tired veins.
His insides sink below the earth
while his muscle memory does the work
Am I of any use here? he shouts to the heavens.
The wind places itself into his net
What use am I to the wind?
“ — “
This poem was originally published on a Medium publication titled Know Thyself Heal Thyself. The highlighted sections are the lines Medium readers appreciated most.