What's going on here?

What's going on here?
Well Amanda and Emily both have goals to write more. Amanda wants to write a poem and a half a day for the next year, while Emily wants to write for National Write a Novel Month (NaNoWriMo), which is usually in November, but she is going to do it from now until her mission on May 18th. Here is were you can follow us in our goals! Leave comments, encouragement, and what ever else you feel like.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

I on the InsIde

A friend told me to focus on the me.
The I on the InsIde.
Being comfortable with the wild free spirit that I’m ashamed to admit is often molded to fit others views.
So I adventured alone under this hot dog-day sun.
I wrote and wrote and wrote with almost every other word being personal pronoun.
And I thought I found her..
The voice that governs this spirit
But I was wrong.
I’d only found 5 year old me Russian-dolled inside.
A little girl still so afraid and never herself a girl molded to fit the demands of her roller-coaster life..
So I thought there was no.
No I InsIde the I
No personal pronoun that was the root word of my semi dactylic kiltered speech
I thought my whole life I’d been some ragdoll stuffed with the stuffings of other people.
My stomach pauncehd out with their wallowed dreams and rules and jokes.
But then I remember a night in a dead stop Idaho winter.
Where at 2 in the morning I’d risen from my bed and stood with front door open breathing in the cold.
That was me.
The real me.
The me that revels in a snow storm.
The ne who is a picky eater.
The me who can’t write a song
The me who thinks quotes in her mind not to impress people but to express herself
And I realized I’d just barely found her.
Just got my fingers wrapped around that skinny ankle before I moved back here.
Back to the terrarium of familial obligation.
Scientist of a family peering in to see I’d changed.
And that girl she took off running free and I was back to being 5 year old me.
Quick to anger, quick to cry
In desperate need of attention.
So soon I’m going to chase down that girl
Running barefoot across concrete like I love to do.
I’m going to chaste that girl down
Over hill and heath over country and sea
Wherever I must go so I can ally know.
Know who I really am.
My feet maybe stuck for now
But I’m wiggling my toes
Hoping to break through
And follow the pay my free spirit chose

No comments:

Post a Comment