Who Am I?
To look back is to see
The seed of what could have been,
Or what should have grown—
Yet nothing can change what is,
Nor the strange things that unfolded.
I am no foreign traveler to my past,
For those are the moments that shaped who I am: Loved and robbed,
Seen, yet blind,
Imaginative, yet confined.
Cherished and tried,
Broken and fixed—
A native kid, expressing collateral beauty through sticks.
Who am I?
This is the question I ponder,
A wandering that leads me through dark valleys
And to still waters.
Sometimes, I find myself unseen
By those around me,
Screaming and pleading for my voice to be heard,
Only to hear my echoes bounce from four corners and the ground.
Oh, Mom, how I wished and prayed you’d hear me—
The comfort I’d feel if you heard your little baby screaming. Though I am grown, I still long
For the warmth of your arms and the love that was sown.
And so I dream again,
Streams of possibility flowing—
Infected by hopes once expected,
Only to face rejection and silent neglect.
All I wanted was to feel accepted.
To feel.
Feeling—
I now know kneeling to feelings alone
Is no path to hope or healing.
It’s a reeling,
A drowning in a pool that’s running dry.
Who am I?
The question exposed,
Once left me depressed and alone,
But now I feel blessed and risen—
A flower blooming in cold moments,
A stillness of content when storms arise.
My mind is caught, wrapped in an old poem I once wrote:
Why can’t you hear me?
Why can’t you hear me as I scream at night?
Not knowing, I live feeling alone and empty inside by the day.
I have cried too much to the point where
I become numb—
Numb to the fact that I’m locked,
Locked in shackles that are not visible to the human eye,
But are so heavily weighed down in my life,
Which affects me daily.
It’s to the point you’ve become so tired of everything, and
It all seems meaningless.
Food becomes tasteless.
A better life seems hopeless.
But don’t you see me normal every day?
You see me smile, hear me laugh, and hear me talk about my future dreams.
But what if I said that it was just to
Cover the unheard cry that is hidden within—
A simple lie told from these lips that say, “I’m okay.”
I have convinced those around me that I am, when I’m not.
I speak with a voice that is gentle and calm, but my heart screams Out loud for help,
Only for it to echo into a void that no one hears nor sees.
It’s not the need to not feel alone anymore,
But the sense of being heard—
To sincerely feel okay again.
So I wait…
Waiting.
Hating.
Contemplating.
Dating myself yields no fruit—
It defies the identity
That cuts clean.
Who am I?
The question remains—
A task that awaits to be unmasked.
Digging deep,
Reflecting on who I am
Is no easy grasp to understand.
So I look above,
Seeking the One
Who is love.
Such travels lead me to realize,
Through open eyes,
The truth behind the lies.
I look to the skies
And feel warmth in His blessed assurance— We do not set camp in dark valleys;
We simply walk through them.
So remind yourself to follow the way,
To the light, to truth—
The truth that sets you free.
O sweet Divine Truth, drown me in Your river of mercy, Regardless of what may be—
Only You are the One
Who will and can set me free.