All of Me

The personal selves were very unhappy

with their fading reception from me. 

(I'd put them away after they'd had their day

in sobering poetry.) 

Systems went haywire, emotions intense --

front and center, their battles they waged

around one lone host in one lone body;

thus, the clashing of life forces raged. 

We haven't talked much, for exhausted I've been,

too weary to peek inside,

but I already know what they want, what they need;

from my own selves I cannot hide. 

So I issue again dynasty plural in words,

affirming those queens -- and kings --

of sandcastles proper and rubber-band planes

and teenage coiffures and things . . .

those younger ones warring to be heard,

begging only to walk in daylight;

the elders -- aged memory banks

of mornings turned into long night. 

All are one and one is all --

I should never have cast them away. 

Whenever we stray from the truth that is ours,

in the strangest ways, we pay.