Having recently been judged for who I am, on a brief single meeting, based on labels and closed minds and prejudices, when I thought we had made a connection--I am processing this news. Rather than post the poetry that is coming out of this pondering, I will post this poem about my self--giving advice to potentially a younger version of me. Or to anyone who needs to hear it.
Please, in this world of anger, hurt, tumult, and uncertainty, be kind to each other. Learn to find our commonalities, our qualities of goodness, the wonder that surrounds us. There is a universe full of love out there, if we choose to share it.
Advice to a
Young Person
Who am I to give you advice?
Having fallen
down the stairs
a dozen times,
not from some
inept dance step
gone wrong
but a
mismanagement
of medication,
a build-up of
toxicity
from becoming
sober
so my brain
and doctor
didn’t know how to
handle me:
I am now
one mis-wired
soul
held together
by hope and
the few
memories that remain.
What do I recommend for life?
comfortable,
that listens to
you,
to whom you can
sing all your problems
so your anxiety
doesn’t play
like a fiddle
and you are in
harmony with
your body.
don’t jiggle
like an un-played piano,
keys loose,
wires out of
tune,
melody
irretrievably lost.
Find someone or
something to love
full-bodied
and do it
proudly,
whose care and
respect for you
is enduring and
endearing.
Cuddle and hug daily.
Listen to the
natural world;
let it surround
you with serenity.
Repair yourself;
allow others to
aid
in that
mending;
allow them time
to mold themselves
anew
as well.
but who you have become.
Be original and
assertively authentic,
your voice
sonorific enough to be heard,
whether it
twangy or soothing,
sonorous or
off-beat,
country or
city,
bizarre or sad
or modern or antique.
Be you, for we are all broken,
and yes,
you are enough.
11.6.24
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