Sorry, I’m a stranger here myself.
I can offer no help
to you
in your search for identity.

Turn new left if you will;
or right, right, right,
right round
in ever decreasing circles,
following anxiously in your own footsteps,
looking for a leader as stupid as yourself.

Follow the middle way
(if that’s your scene)
Or hang your hat up with the other hang-ups
(not forgetting to tip the hat-check girl)
and take your seat in the auditorium,
rustling and coughing,
waiting for the play to begin.

I’m sorry.
I wish 1 could help.
Perhaps you could describe it –
this Identity you seek.
Is it a place you wish to visit?
A person?
fat and fair?
or tall?
or thin?

Or is it a thing?
an artifact.
An article you’ve lost
or never found.
Come, let us begin.
I’ll help you look around.

Of course, if it were a jewel, say,
flashing – Iridescent –
Glowing with an inner pulsing light,
The task would be simple
Because I see it clear,
Gleaming in magnificent brilliance,
THERE, upon your forehead
Like a third eye,
Flashing
Flashing.

Ah well,
I’m sorry.
But as I said before,
My Self is a stranger.
Here.

H.St.Vincent Beechey
October 1971.