I Am Real, So Do I Exist?

I am real.
I am blood and bones and nerves.

Sometimes I wish I were only spirit.
Free of limits; free of pain.

But I am bound by Earth.
Beautiful Earth.

Its stones sting when I fall.
Its tiniest hills morph into mountains I cannot assail.

I am hurt, yet do not bleed.
Somehow that is hard for others to believe.

Oftentimes we feel trapped behind boundaries,
Some not even truly our own.

I already have mine: bound by a body that cannot do its task,
But that is not where my limits rest.

Their narrow minds refuse to grasp
That which a name not yet hast.

So here I stand, or sit, or fall, and always suffer;
Waiting for an answer, a clue, some relief.

I know I am real.
So too is my pain.

I feel it in blood and bones and nerves.
All they feel is disbelief.

Since they cannot understand it or classify it,
Then of course it cannot exist.


Tschüss,
Marta Frieda Hart