I expect too much of time
in the little I have left.
I am a dinosaur,
and it,
the pummelling to come.

I wait for its whoosh to confound me;
the bending skywards of my neck;
the brevity of my innocence;
my un-vocal surrender.

A wounded animal,
contorted by such clarity,
by my lack of ease
as I awkwardly live to expire.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 29 November, 2017


Clarity is such a messy stage to reach in one’s development.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 14 February, 2013


Clarity imparts no gift without the vision to receive it.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 3 March, 2011