Tuesday, November 25, 2014

A poem titled What's This?

"What's This?" By, Tara Davidson...

There are almost a thousand scars on this body of mine,
I know not how they got there...
There are hundreds of aches from injuries,
I know not how they occurred...
There are millions of ideas and notions,
I know not what to do with them...
There are so many deep emotions,
I know not how to express them...
There are so many unanswered questions & puzzle pieces,
I know not where they fit...

There are things I'll never know for sure,
for this I am entirely certain...
There are things I'll have to let go of,
for this I am entirely willing...
There are things I'll have to start to mourn,
for this I am not looking forward to...
There are losses that cannot be put into words,
for this I must assure...
There are going to be many moments of confusion,
for this I know will occur...

There are times when I'm lost and truly feel broken,
but I must continue to endure...
There are times when things will get awkward & strange,
but I must keep trying to connect...
There are times where I'll disappoint & remind you of this loss,
but I know you forgive & attempt once more...
There are times that there's no excitement or vigor,
but you remember there was before...
There are things that I cannot regrow or replace,
but I miss me as much as you do...

Sometimes things aren't fair, don't feel logical, and rip at our core,
yet we move on and grow up & try to look forwards...
Sometimes what we hope for doesn't happen,
yet we must strive to survive until we figure out the why's...
Sometimes our paths are bombed and broken,
yet we rise through our rubble and retie our dusty boots...
Sometimes this life is sad and painful - tragic for some - life-altering for others,
yet we all feel the same losses, shames, and pains...
Sometimes shattered lives turn into beautiful mosaics,
yet we fail to see the beauty of being broken & reassembled.

I lose myself every few weeks and what isn't lost is the me that's always been deep inside. The me I was born as. The me that the world, all of the experiences I've had, the circumstances I've been in, nor brain injuries I have, can alter.

No matter how scary or confusing my world gets from time to time, I must never forget that my life-essence (or soul/energy) cannot be erased like my memories have been. Nothing can take my true self out of my nature. Nothing can alter the fabric of my being except for death.

I may be a different version of me - but I'm still me, and I'm still here, and I'm still trying my best to surpass what I've been through, am going through, or ever will go through, will grace and dignity. Not falseness or ego, but truly with grace and dignity for not only the me that was erased, but for the me that I still am.

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