I’m working on a new poem but I’m not quite sure where I stand on it. It’s a bit of a battle between my many selves. Thanks for reading.
Of course I am self-conscious.
I have self-respect. I just don’t.
I own an awareness, a conscience.
I am quite aware of the disappointment.
Do not think I cannot feel your cringe.
I am more than I thought I would be
and more than you thought I would be
Yet not, no, never enough
To be what we thought I should be.
I wear myself all over my skin
And under it, inside the belly
That held sacred things,
and each a stark reminder
of our differences.
Raised with great expectations
Such a deep well of words
And the tallest of dreams
For the smallest of shoulders
A wildflower with seeds to sow
A Thursday’s child,
With so far to go.
You are not in my face,
Nor my heart, nor my blood
But in my soul, where you stain
And my ear, with every single
Pavlovian response I cannot deny.
Be seen, and not heard, and not
Caught in a laugh or a whisper
Or a second plate or a little dance
For no reason.
Because everything has a reason
And a place and a rule and a law.
‘Be wild’ they tell me,
Dressed in my best with the biggest holes.
I made them myself while I earned
Street cred, with my careful aim
And my scissors and safety pins.
Be as you as you can be
until you don’t remember who you were.
I will pose in every picture,
take in every scene
and wear them on my sleeve
Until I find a face I fit in,
that feels like mine.