Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
I know who I am,
Until I don’t,
Until I can’t figure out
That my behavior doesn’t look like Me,
I know Me,
Until I don’t;
It’s then that my beloveds catch me
As I freefall,
They hold me back,
They have my back,
Even when I
Don’t recognize it.
Turned around in reflection,
What I found
I couldn’t accept,
Couldn’t escape,
Digging deeper, I aimed
to connect the pieces,
To right the wrongs
Atone for my transgressions
From when I didn’t know
Me,
And of my falling;
Fallen,
I have to stop
Now,
And look up
To see the light that guided me
back here to my ground-zero;
New moves,
About-face
to pull up
Stand strong,
Be proud
Of all I’ve come through
and back again,
Ready now
To live,
To write next pages
With fresh ink
Vision cleared,
Purpose,
And a sharpened point to this,
My life
Fear
Makes me deny hard truths
Only few know,
And I hide
To cover what I bare;
Regretful am I
Of this tendency
And where it leaves me here
Solitary;
I want to apologize,
For all the individual wrongs,
But I fear we’re past that now,
You have moved on,
But I am stuck
In 2022
Starting to pay for
My refusal to see
I was a problem;
It was never just someone
or something else;
But me;
My want for a fuller life
Together
Made me override,
Overrule,
Take the reigns
I had no right to hold alone;
And you knew me
When I could not see
Me for me;
Especially when I wasn’t being
Me;
I faulted you for saying
The things I did not want
To hear
And now I’m sitting here
Writing
About them,
Trying to figure out
How to climb out
Of this ocean of hurt
With waves that only tease
With a short relief of air;
I am sorry for everything,
You were right,
And now I’m not there;
No, I’m lost
Alone.
I have run to you,
I have run from you,
In fear of self,
In fear of the unknown,
I have deleted my poems,
Confessions,
And such,
Fearing the power of others hands they might touch,
But who am I?
Whose feelings could be wanted?
So needed to be manipulated?
I am no one.
And therein lies the rub,
If I am no one,
I am nothing,
But I am something,
I am someone,
I cannot be no one,
And thus,
I am important,
I am unique,
I am valuable…
And if so I have much to protect,
I can either refuse to live, to preserve ever being harmed,
Or I can revolt against fear and oppression,
Determined to preserve my existence and living,
And thus,
I wage my own internal battle against uncertainly,
And pledge to live;
And so I write on.
The wound had festered,
Under,
Unseen,
Growing,
Until it reached the surface,
There it was open,
The air stung,
How I did shriek!
Unable to believe such harm had been,
Was of, was in
me,
But it could not be unseen,
Unfelt,
And beckoning alone would not heal,
And so I gathered gauze of aid,
And let in the attendants for my mind and soul,
To dress the painful opening that was now exposed,
And it promised not to close,
To be stubborn as cells stitched together a flesh bandage for the wound,
And it was painful,
The knowing, the being, the healing.
Time passed,
Much time passed,
And I look back on an invisible scar in disbelief,
How was that me?
Who was that me?
The wound is closed,
But the memory of phantom pain shocks my mind once in a while,
And strange photos,
Strange writings,
Strange thoughts of things not as they really were
come back to me,
To me,
To the me that is whole,
Healed,
But who remains vigilant,
For the feared return of the wounded me
that once resided here.
Where are you?
You are in there somewhere,
We are not giving up on you,
You are there,
You are,
And we will help you,
Will find you,
No, it’s not easy,
But you are not alone,
You will make it through.
She of Letters 