The following is one of my most personal pieces; it continues to be relevant today, even after some time has passed since I first wrote it. I go back and read it at times when I need purposeful reminders, to rock me gently in rhythm, color, and verses, and keep me steady.
I lie awake,
Restless in my dreams to be
Envisioning my future
Memorizing a grown me
Will I be happy?
Will I make my mamma proud?
Have my daddy finally see me?
I feel tongue-tied and web-toed
Uncaged, yet contestably unborn
Altered, but merely processed into a mold
Breaking away, only later to refold
Will I write my own story?
Or is it already told?
I still lie awake, at an impasse in undefined road
My memories of girlhood
Are yellow in their ennui
And naïve in their bold red
Disillusioned blue, shades of grey unclaimed
Untamed words of poetry
Reined in subtleties of selfhood
Back then, I dreamt in images borrowed
My narratives of womanhood
Are in free indirect discourse
Lucid in the solace of the internal
Cautious in the sways of the corporeal
Conscious in the reverie of the informal
Coarse in the intimacy of the external
And irreverent of the rules of the formal
I lie awake,
Formless in my self-to-be
Reclaiming the ghosts of my past
Composing memoirs of where I’ll be
Coloring what the future holds of me
I will be happy.
I will make my mamma proud.
Have my father know me.