Note to Self
when I stop holding my breath,
this nine year old self sure
what I think doesn't matter?
Oh, I’ve plenty to say these days,
no longer avoid eye contact, head down,
teacher waiting, class giggling,
as I look at my fingernails,
certain this moment will never pass…
but my heart still palpitates when words elude,
afraid of mispronouncing, misusing -
may even blush a bit, although at 52
I'll falsely blame it on high blood pressure.
You've done enough damage,
glad with age comes bits of wisdom:
know to comfort, reassure you
instead of you trying to protect me.
It's time to hold hands, feel the sky
upon our shoulders, hear the sea
rush towards our toes and BREATH -
learn to love all that is me.
by Margaret Bednar
glad with age comes bits of wisdom:
know to comfort, reassure you
instead of you trying to protect me.
It's time to hold hands, feel the sky
upon our shoulders, hear the sea
rush towards our toes and BREATH -
learn to love all that is me.
by Margaret Bednar
This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Kerry's Challenge - The Poem as One-Sided Conversation".
8 comments:
This is beyond beautiful, Margaret! Sometimes we get caught up in the moment and forget that its perfectly alright to have those flaws.. we forget to breathe.. to love ourselves for who we truly are. After all, imperfection is beautiful!💖
I love how you went from 9 year old girl to 52 year old woman. Seamless and flawless. I hope you learn to love the woman that you are. There is quite a bit in her to love.
Insecurity. Funny how memories trigger it and how lovely when we reach an age where it simply does not matter. Be well, Margaret.
Wow, I've lived this, and it's sort of the other side of the coin from what I wrote for this challenge. I think that when we start from this place of damage or devaluing, we either side with the angels or the devils. The angels won with me, but the devils never stop prodding. Your poem wonderfully expresses the positive. When we know what hurts, we are specially equipped to offer healing.
This is very introspective, Margaret. Many writers fail to venture so far beneath their own psyches to really self-assess. Brava!
I do remember that other self so well... and somehow there are moments when that insecurity opens up like an abyss... then it's good to remember and breathe
"Learn to love all that is me...." It takes us most of our lifetimes to learn how to do that, after the tortures of childhood........I love the rush at the end to feel the sunshine and breathe........
I certainly can identify with this poem. Those voices still sneer occasionally but I have them mostly under control now.
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