Parts Of Me
There is one part of me that
Feels safe sometimes, that part of me
That doesn’t go outside of my front door and
Just stays home and listens to music playing and
Sings along softly to the tunes while
I paint my life’s story in vivid colors or
Write my testimony over and over again, though in different words every time-
My dream being that someday I shall be discovered
As the person I truly am-
That person who wants the world to know
That the path I have walked has been
Scattered with stones and branches of fallen trees-
And how I have bent over to collect those stones and
How I have kicked the branches aside- That person I truly am who
Is like a bird with broken wings but has found a way to fly-
Perhaps not high in the sky but flying, just the same or
Maybe as a deer with a broken leg who still can run,
Perhaps not at a galloping speed but running just the same-
There is a part of me that is terrified and has always been-
Terrified of the people in this world so vast and so threatening-
I have found myself a cave inside of which to hide and
Here I can sing, dance or just merely talk- I have pulled the curtains shut and as I
Whisper words as incoherent as they may be-
It hardly matters because no one is here to
Slight me or to interrupt my performance-
So many have often said how lonely I must be-
Living alone inside my shelter, though a safe place for me to hide-
Safe with the curtains drawn, windows shut and doors locked and chained-
This one part of me is none but victorious as
I call myself a survivor, having collected all of the stones and
Having kicked all of the branches on the paths I walk aside-
Happy to be here at home- singing and dancing-
I can laugh and run about here and sometimes when I step outside my sanctuary
If only for a moment and I could tell any passerby –
I am never alone, never lonely because
The whole world could disappear within a gust of wind- and
I am not alone in this world or never lonely only because-
Even if every person in this world would vanish, I shall always have myself-
The tunes I carry- the canvas upon which I majestically paint my life’s story-
And most of all- my dreams-
poem by Claudia Krizay
Added by Poetry Lover
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