Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
August 2, 2017
I have come into my own
Dredged through
The swamp
Of the lowest
of my lows
And pulled myself up
To stand erect
Looked back in reflection
And from the muck
Sculpted a self
I can admire
I am the potter and clay,
I am the pot
-that which cannot exist
Without
the gaping hole
at center
June 10, 2005
I have not given up
For reasons
I have yet to understand
For circumstances
I am yet to apprehend
Teetered on this tightrope of life
Given the benefit of doubt
Only to see that I have been left out
Lean on no one, no more
Expect from none other than me
Dream my own dreams
Weave my own path
Take a breath
And let it pass
I have said my goodbyes
To a time when I was
Someone
I never wished to be
Someone who remains
Deep inside of me
Times are difficult
I will admit
And I am still
a little strange
But keep up,
And in time you will find
That no one’s life
is quite the same
That despite whether or not
others can
I still have
to love me.
Written 2005
Please forgive me
For my inexperience,
My awkward footing,
These shoes are new
–A little too big,
Though they looked
Like they would fit,
I will grow into them
If you give me time,
I know the right footwork
I have seen it before,
Just never danced
a tango for two
And of course,
Like I mentioned
–the shoes
Trust me,
I am not always this shy
That is just a part
Of my inexperience
That we will need to get by
Sometimes I am too bold
Forgive me for this
–Out of the loop
For far too long,
Sorry,
If I come on too strong
I will get the hang
If you just take the lead
Sorry, again,
If I forget to breathe
And sorry for all of my apologies
Please,
Just don’t let me dive in too deep
July 11, 2017
Starting over,
Picking pieces
To put together
A bouquet
Of my own
Independence is fragrant
With excitement
and trepidation
But this is my own
And I will own
this arrangement
As one picked
by and for
All that is essential
to me
December 31, 2006, Revised 2017
When I was 9
Alanis was my idol.
Then came puberty,
that crimson age of loss,
of insecurity,
and I lost it.
I lost it all,
all that innate
proud feminism,
That innocent security,
The accrued will to be,
and certainty
that as long as I tried,
God damn-it,
I could fly.
Then there was you,
With smug looks of judgment,
For me to defeat.
But now I see.
Now I see
Your cynicism
In looks of chauvinism
Masking
insecurity,
inferiority
And I don’t have much more to say.
I’m done trying
To prove anything.
Reach only a little more
No needed boost from you,
No prepared proof,
for patriarchs unknown.
Honest, full-fledged
female identity,
holy intact;
I’ve flown.
She of Letters 