I am me
Shaken and broken
With the strength of a tree
And the body of a flower
Whose petals have fallen
In a “blow the man down”
…type of manner.
My mind is an attic of cobweb strings
From years of trying to be their perfect “thing”
Believing they may like me
And I would finally be enough!
If I molded so purposefully
Into their “with restrictions” kind of love…
But you see…
And listen please
I became a porcelain doll so elegant and clean
Yet never, no not once…
Were they proud of me!
My friends, it was still not enough
Because an acceptance without abundance
Is no form of love
And the lines through my face glued and replaced
…Oh from the many many nights the doll did break!
…Was too ugly for many who shunned without grace
My body like a stem
Bare, with no protection
Felt the realist love
As God touched me from His heavens
In my mind, spun and confused
In my heart, tender and bruised
In my being, sewn from the tragedy of truth
He believes I am beautiful!
I even heard him whisper…
“Daughter, just be yourself”
Hi, I am a mess…
I am no more and certainly no less
But I am free
From the convictions of all the “whomevers” they wanted me to be…
The doll has been shattered to the doom of the well
To release a timid me
In all my unruly mystery
He shouted as I bowed,
“My daughter you are lovely and
I am ever….