something bulky in my indoors,
like an active turtle, revolts
within, refusing to my settling
in the depth inside my shell
refusals and revolts of my soul
against the menacing ‘isms’
religious and secular in texture
including a broader universalism
they are nothing but a ‘herd-ism’
camouflaged, making me move,
though, like a tortoise in slow speed
reconciling with an unsettling self
