Whenever I’m asked who I am, I falter
I freeze and I stutter, then I take a step back
2, 3, 4 steps back, and I turn around and run
Run to the recesses of my mind
The internal sandbox of sand and good excuses
Dig out the words I can use to cover my bruises
Something like “I don’t know”
Or “Ha ha, woah!”
That’s deep. I don’t know.
Though I don’t see why
I can at least try
I’m an optical illusion
I think I work this way but the real me works that way,
I’m a plane on a runway
I know, with 89% confidence, how to get from point A to point B
But I’ll never take off, that’ll never be me,
I’m a spaceman, a lost cosmonaut flung across isolated dimensions
across deserts of dying stars, with nothing to do but pray for absolutions
or a mercy that’s more permanent, more final…
I tell myself I am these things but I don’t know. This is hard.
This won’t be the poem where I tell you what I like
The truth is, I’m boring, and there’s not much I really dislike
This won’t be the poem where I tell you what I’m scared of
The truth is, the only thing that haunts me is me, what I’m made of
This won’t be the poem where I tell you why…
Why I love the rain but watching it from the window makes me cry…
And I’m sorry if I talk quietly or I mumble,
Or if this isn’t good enough,
But the truth is, when you’re so scared or ashamed of what you can do,
Or what you have done
You get shaky when you’re asked “who are you”?
Who are you?
Who are you? Speak up.
What’s wrong with you?
I was born suspended in water
In the rain on an island in the sea
From the day I was born, I wasn’t free
My parents brought me to the world
They gave me love, then they imprisoned me
I wasn’t free
Early on, I learned that everything had a cost
Mine came in the form of promises to my father
Obligations to Dad
He told me,
Our love brought you here, so you can’t be a painter
Can’t make animation or movies
Can’t write novels or scripts
The world has enough artists
If you want to be a creator, then go create money
You don’t need these dreams, there’s promise in stability
He told me,
You can’t bring us shame
You can’t tarnish our name
You can choose who you want to love
But on your wedding, the day of
I will not pretend to care
I promise I won’t be there
This is not a negotiation
There will be no more discussion
He told me,
My opposition is a felony
The quiet rebellions I commit make me a criminal
And like a criminal, I should be tucked away,
Contained behind a curtain of steel rods
I am not free.
I am not free.
But in indentured servitude, I subsist
In hidden pastimes I resist
I choose to create things. I draw and I write
I continue loving my boyfriend with all of my might
Because this is how I fight
Some part of me still wants to fight
But is this right? Will I be alright?
Some part of me still wants to fight, punch back, retaliate, engage!
But the larger part of me wants to crawl back to my cage…
In the sun I ignore, but at night I lay on the floor, my body so sore
My mind swelling like a boil
A pocket of pink wire knotted and tangled
Agitated and inflamed, bloating my head
Overflowing with thoughts, conflicted
Emotions, unchecked
Insanity, in effect
I’m Frankenstein’s monster: evil and scared, evil or scared
I resent things, I envy others,
I lash out, I hurt people,
I am malicious and a liar
I’m a serpent in the fire
I didn’t weep
I smiled and went back to sleep
When I was told he was in an accident
On the highway, a car with a crater, a dent
Despair in the house, why did they lament?
He didn’t die
He’s on standby
Right there, downstairs
Unscratched, limbs in both pairs
Still the warden of my jailhouse
Still the father of a mouse
Quiet, small, weak
A mouse.
I act like a fool but I follow the rules
I dance with defiance but hide my riots
Because my opposition is a felony
The quiet rebellions I commit make me a criminal
And I don’t know who I am,
I just… I just know I don’t want to be bad
Cedar Ridge High School
12