The Tale of Two Parts of Me
“It was the best of times...”
When I first “came out” of my closet comprised of stifling doubt
The summer of freshman year
In a small, familiar dorm room 20 miles away from my real home
Surrounded by people I knew in every way,
Except for how they would react
Bisexual
Not quite gay
But definitely not straight
The terror of being recognized for who I truly was
Which had threatened me to silence for one drawn out year of my life
Was quickly vanquished by the joy I felt,
Who crept out of its dusty cobwebbed cave
To join me in a happy dance
This joy,
Which couldn’t be held by my bones alone,
Swiftly escaped in the form of tears
Before latching onto my soul
Never to be removed again
I fell in love with myself that day,
Grew to see that I was beautiful and worth it and,
Best of all,
My feelings were
Real.
Valid.
Honest.
“It was the worst of times…”
The first time I doubted myself
To fear that my sexuality wasn’t truly a part of me,
That I was faking.
I teetered on the white jagged line between
Whether I was just trying to be cool
Or trying to be myself.
The multiple congregations of choirs in my head
Whose voices carried daggers
Stabbing my conscience
My very being demanded that I
Just pick one.
As if it’s that easy.
Imagine unraveling the string of your identity
And following it back to the giving tree of answers of your mind
To figure out who you truly are
Only to find it wilted and barren, unable to offer up any semblance of order
To be alone when you first pick apart whether a crush was a crush
Or just a simple friendship
Or whether it was both
And if it means everything
Or nothing at all
How is anyone supposed to hold
All the answers to sexuality
When I can barely come up with my own
Without feeling like my lungs have collapsed as my own self hate slowly takes the place of air
And suffocates me
Before I am quickly pulled right back to reality by the bigots who lie in the depths
Awaiting small naïeve teens like me
Waving their signs of hidden warnings and threats
To remind us just how insignificant and unnatural we really are
“In short....”
I think there is no way
For me to truly be content with who I am
When I still have trouble deciding between the colliding plates in my head
Which threaten to split my identity right down the middle
This is the Tale of Two Parts of Me
Ella I love the imagery in your poetry, you easily paint the picture for the reader to understand what you are feeling, even though we are not you (obviously)
ReplyDeletefavorite line:
"Imagine unraveling the string of your identity
And following it back to the giving tree of answers of your mind
To figure out who you truly are
Only to find it wilted and barren, unable to offer up any semblance of order"
I like how this line explains to the reader how introspective this moment was for you. It describes thoughts in a way that is relate-able.
This is a really outstanding poem. I could feel what you were expressing and through your imagery I was able to see it. My favorites line is probably "The multiple congregations of choirs in my head/ Whose voices carried daggers".
ReplyDeleteWOWOWOW I really like this poem and the theme that you had written it in where there is a story being told. My favorite line was:
ReplyDelete"I teetered on the white jagged line between
Whether I was just trying to be cool
Or trying to be myself."
This line is fab and really shows the internal struggle you were facing.
I LOVE THIS POEM! It was so good! The way that you wrote it was amazing, it really allowed the reader to understand what you were feeling.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite lines:
"How is anyone supposed to hold
All the answers to sexuality
When I can barely come up with my own
Without feeling like my lungs have collapsed as my own self hate slowly takes the place of air
And suffocates me
Before I am quickly pulled right back to reality by the bigots who lie in the depths"