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TO A VERSION OF A YOUNGER ME.
Smile, child. Wipe your tears away.
The confusion, the unknown, you will understand one day.
You, the one adjacent to so many people,
The one who struggled for years, toxicity kept on becoming lethal.
What you wanted when you were younger,
This cruel world could not oblige.
A boy wearing dresses and carrying a purse, oh me oh my!!
Never quite grasping who you really are, looking back my heart is punctured.
In your late teens and twenties, you wrecked your body and mind.
You really put in the work, did a lot of damage, and had a great time.
Behind that, though, the mirror cracks,
When held up to you, and you’ve had to sit with the facts.
It took a long, long, long, time.
Now, look where we are, and how far we’ve come
Just look at your beautiful self in the mirror again, no longer glum
Your smile tells it all, the feeling equally sublime!
You’ve conquered your demons
May they live in the past.
May good spirits always be beacons
Of all that will come, and all that will last.
This is, of course, a little piece of me looking back and telling younger me that the confusion, and not-quite-understanding nature of life, and the ways one can live in it, will become clear in the future.
I understand that I didn’t have the foresight or the words, the language, to describe my feelings. Honestly, I don’t remember a lot of growing up, excepting playing a lot of football (not hand egg), which I was good at, and playing some other sports that I sucked at and hod no business trying to play lol.
Keep in mind, this is just a fraction of what I can and will write about. I look forward to some more mind mining. Trying to get into those crevices, into the deep recesses of my mind, and try to understand, even deeper, how I came to be in this body at this time.
I am sure there is some type of cptsd/ptsd going on, because there have been things (remembrances of times past) that occupy, and actually, live rent-free iwn my brain, whether that is a good thing or not.
Anyway, this poem is just one of what I hope will be many by the end of the month. It is National Poetry Month, after all!!!
Until Next Time.
No. T.R.A.S.H. No Islamophobia. No Xenophobia. No Borders. Reparations. Land Back.
