I’m out in the open…

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I turn to one side and then the other, looking for that sweet girl of mine. I spot her at a distance, cheerily picking out the last of the pickets, and strangely I experience freedom.

I extend my hand to reach out to her, but she scampers off before I can take a single step. After all, she had a fence to burn.

I run; almost fly with the new-found buoyancy that I notice in my step. I stop just short of her and stand by, quietly witnessing what she does next.

Each picket she carried she lay down one by one in an oh-so-perfect array — perfect in a way only nature can be. Soon, right before my eyes, the mound of pickets that was once a fence, lay ablaze with flames so intense they lit up the sky as though the sun had descended upon us.

All at once, I couldn’t help but feel a shiver of fear run down my spine. The realization had just dawned that with my fence now gone, I had no place to hide. I was visible.

I had been seen and I would continue to be seen — in all my nakedness; with all my light; with all my dark.

They’d see me curled up like a ball; they’d see me unfurled like a flag.

They’d see the holes in the fabric of me; they’d see the frayed edges of me.

They’d see the fading colours of me; they’d see the stains of time on me.

They’d see me fly; they’d see me crash.

They’d know I’m human and so very raw.

With no facade to cover me up, I reckon I’m in full display.

The me I’d been hiding from, was out in the open today.

I take a good look at my own reflection

Who am I when I’m not (feigning) perfection?

I’m anger

I’m sadness

I’m laughter

I’m grief

I’m beauty, and I’m not

I’m bold, and I’m meek

I rise, and later ebb

I flow, and yet I stall

I float, and I sink; I rise yet again

I gasp, and I choke

I cry, and then I joke

I love big despite the fear —

of losing those I hold dear

I fear and I run

I fear and I hide

I fear and I fight

I fear and I pause

I fear but then sometimes I stay.

I sense that I’m ahead and then far behind —

but what I truly crave is simply beside

I bend and I yield

I reach and I share

I soothe and I shade

I shed and I bleed

I burn and I seethe

I sizzle and I fade

I squirm and I shake

I quiver and I quake

I writhe and I groan

I’m here and then I’m gone

I’m open and I seek

I’m you, but I’m not

I’m a mother and I’m a child

I was tamed, yet I’m wild

I’m tooth and I’m nail

I scream and I rail

My voice is not mine, not mine alone

My pain is not mine, not mine alone

My pride is not mine, not mine alone

I carry the sounds of those before me, some spoken, some unsaid

Sounds that traveled far and long, in their quest to be heard.

Knowing this I cannot but write, for it’s about more than just me

They tell me my art will set not just them, but several others free.