To Know Who I Am

I struggle sometimes,

with the right words,

perhaps an easy phrase,

a greeting of some kind.

I want the world to understand,

I am my own being,

I’ve fought a war perhaps,

nothing like a soldier’s wrath.

 

I listen to what is real around me,

the smarter speakers

those meant to be listened upon.

I wait for revelations,

I want to know,

where is it that I shall go,

with my next adventure,

just a simple morning away.

 

I’d like to think I’m right,

but there is such wide expanse

of narrative to discredit

anyone who might disregard

the reality of fear.

Instead we live in a constant,

of idiosyncrasy and wealth,

the sort that leaves a waning.

 

See it seems we are a society

built upon certain hypocrisy,

and if someone argues,

another might step in

when the originator

is walked out of the ring,

a towel over their head,

to hide only that embarrassment.

 

Yet, what happens to the winner,

when it is realized,

there is a far greater fight ahead,

than anyone might imagine,

Or perhaps they did,

just in the blink of an eye,

when were all told a no,

we might find agreement instead.

 

I wonder what it is, where I’ll be

suddenly when asked to know who I am.

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A Picture of Change We Will Unravel

Photo by Annie Liebowitz

Photo by Annie Leibovitz

I have heard ‘secrets,’

that interview was extensive,

a great deal of suggestion,

people complained,

some wondered, others scowled,

many didn’t care,

about the man’s affairs.

~

What do we read?

the hottest magazines that demonstrate

our most monstrous needs to associate

with a world we might sooner

discard than understand.

Please know there is little derision

in supporting the decision,

We just wonder again,

what is so important in our lives,

that a 62 year old woman,

makes the cover of Vanity Fair?

Now there’s an obvious thought,

who is it reads such affairs,

or perhaps are there a volley,

a vaulting interest in readership,

let’s dive in now, won’t we all,

join the list of new subscribers?

How quickly we pirouette the personal

into an arena of public scrutiny.

~

A man who no longer felt like a …

such confusions are beyond my realm,

when today I walked down the street,

see a pretty woman and a handsome man,

I really haven’t a clue,

of her suffering … just months to live.

By her demeanor they look happy together,

almost sort of teary when we think about it.

Yet tonight what is trending,

because that really is what we’re after,

in a world drawn by ruinous imagery,

we welcome in good, old, Caitlyn Jenner.

~

Meanwhile, across the world, in lunchrooms,

classrooms, gyms and locker rooms,

there’s those damn kids again,

struggling to find their identity,

wanting to cut, to use the wrong dosage,

drive a needle into their arm,

be gothic, morbid, walking zombies,

whatever trend that moves aside,

their own personal fear of scrutiny.

I wonder if any of these ‘miscreants,’

even think of buying the latest,

Vanity, vanity, vanity,

Caitlyn’s Vanity Fair.

At Seventeen Again

Years later, I returned, I didn’t ask,

I just recall the time I lived there,

alone in my own quiet space,

lumbering vacant emotions were near.

I glance around the hallways

see the faces exist alone together,

happy, smiling, crying, scared

defiant, denied, demands, devoid

of all the worry that years later,

their lives will wish might be a return

to that simple time when almost a child

we could all live again, at seventeen.

~

Let’s not forget the nightmare exists

when every morning in a mirror,

their souls rely upon one happy line,

a smile, a glance, a potential kiss,

a date to the prom, instead of alone,

let’s recall that every step they take,

through a sea of like minded souls

contains the trappings, the stirrings,

the mystique of the human condition.

When next you round a corner, take

heed in the eyes, they’re your tell,

the windows of worry that suggest

we’re all seventeen again in awhile.

~

I want to live my life as a whole

individual, one that might relish,

a summer morning, without worry

of where my food will come, where,

shelter will present itself in the middle

of a haunting night that reflects

the somber reality of my life, known.

~

Yet, at seventeen, I’m surrounded,

so why, where is it, I stand alone.

Struggling with Identities?

So many exist you know

They come and often go

When you least expect a need

A personality may provide a read

~

Of that mind that entered a new space

Wearing garments just like your own

Yet realized the exterior tends to erase

What little comparisons might be known

~

Words talking about being his true self within

Last weekend he endeavored a spiritual being

Traveling slow in a world a soul might only imagine

Miles apart from a reality we face constantly living

~

This coffee shop exists being here now whether

We see the same faces, attitudes alone together

Or new sets of identities fill the leather chairs

Sipping lattes, keeping journals – who is it cares

~

Have you ever wandered down a certain avenue

Thinking quietly about each time you really knew

I Wonder What I Look Like In Your Eyes

So often

I will ask

A classroom of students

What they see

When they

Look in a mirror

~

Really, just waking up

Breathing

Facing a new day

Knowing people will look at them

But first

Who do they notice

Standing in front of the glass

The eyes connect immediately

~

When does the mind

Kick in

To offer fearful

Notions

When is it

That our bodies

Become the focal

Point

When do we

Move beyond the eyes

And begin to contemplate

What others are already seeing

~

Miles away

They’re readying their

Judgments

After all,

What we see is what they get

Interesting

How we might twist words

To favor our own need

Our opportunity

To define

Who we are

Want to become

~

And then it begins

The walk through miles

Of eyes and quick, decisive

Glances

One simple corner of the eye

As you round a pillar

Might change an entire day’s

Course of action

That smile didn’t add up

To the telling outcome

In my mind

~

Instead our fears

Draw back the curtains

And anxiety steps

In while no longer do the eyes

Contain the soul.

Instead now we subject

Our selves

To another perception

We instead of internal

Safety zones

Allow our bodies exposure

To all of the elements

~

Harsh

Windswept hallways

Filled with rough edged

Swords

That sweep the mind

With quick slicing talons

Of hurtful commentary

Where is our hope

Where lies the beauty

And grace of our own

Identified human condition

~

Look inside my eyes

And you can tell who I am

Because it is there that defines

The beauty and grace of

Vulnerability

My passion is my need

To hope and love

And feel blessed with the

God-given ability

To love back without agenda

Simple, honest, truthImage