Poem

Poem May 3, 2010


I wasn’t real sure about sharing this poem, but what the heck, it seemed appropriate for Creative Every Day’s theme of Inspiration. I don’t write poetry very often, mostly just for myself. It’s like do it yourself therapy.

Sometimes the pain comes on like beauty
And the awen flows upward through
The shock of finding that I would be this
That I would sing,
That I would write
That most of all I would make art
I would make art
I would make art
The fear is overwhelming
The shame of not being who I was supposed to be
Snappy suit
Black heels
Leather briefcase
That my paternity and education were not enough
That I went deep, cocooned, and then the slough
Of old fat and skin. I emerged.
Honed like a blade I was.
I learned to take what I could when I could
My children eat rice and beans so that I can paint.
So many things to move through
Words and mirrors and blood.
I can only hope what is on the other side is worth it.

Browse Our Archives