I Have No Name

I have no name
Because God gave me none
And in the space that contained my pain, in all of that space I thought perhaps you could touch me
Then I found that the hurt blocked all of that- I heard hurt does that sometimes
And the space had become a wall
And the wall had become my home.
Just outside of it the world lived forward
I stayed behind it and remembered backwards

I have no name
I don’t care for one
It shouldn’t be one of my components, one of those me things
Who I am should consist of nothing
I will be defined, yes
Yet only by nothing but everything that a human being contains

I have no name
I answer to no one
And so how am I identified
We have done all of this to ourselves
The searching and doubting and fearing…and naming

And so my dream person, just before you blend with the air and leave my consciousness with a residue of incense-on-a-stick questioning
I remind you that I have no name
But you may give me one

© A Quarcoopome