If I could stop pretending

Copyright 2013© All rights reserved

by Samadhi Yaisha

“My life was never mine to begin with.”

teal-steel-sexy-woman

If I could stop pretending, I’d say

that freedom has boldly blasted

my door a few times.

And she’s not necessarily pretty as an innocent dove.

She’s fierce, visceral

–a perfect warrior of naked steel.

Yes, she is daring and fearless.

Comes banging at the door of my heart

without permission,

and sweeps all my comforts away.

Throws me off a cliff: “Now you fly!”

Pushes me to the cold water: “Now you swim!”

Gentleness is not in her curriculum for me,

apparently.

Perhaps I don’t understand gentle.

Perhaps I only get the military call

to belong to her ferocious squad of those

not allowed to give excuses.

She strips my soul of the lies I believed in

again and again.

“Ok! Now you wake up!” she says.

“And, out of your own vigor, grow!”

If I could stop pretending, I’d say

that I was sick

with distorted perceptions about myself.

I allowed others to plant these beliefs

in my consciousness.

Fed them myself,

and blamed them for my results.

If I could stop pretending, I’d say

that I never wanted to overachieve,

that I didn’t care about perfection.

That all I wanted was the the happiness

simplicity brings.

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If I could stop pretending, I’d say

that I expected others to be constant in their beliefs.

And I was disappointed when they proved to be

just

human.

If I could stop pretending, I’d say

that I have omitted a few lines of this poem.

I have censored myself,

out of fear of judgement,

out of self compassion.

If I could stop pretending, I’d say,

that I don’t know, perhaps,

how not to pretend anymore?

If I could stop pretending, I’d say

that I don’t care to be thin.

I’d choose to be fat,

if only it didn’t drag me into addiction and despair.

I’d be simple, happy, plump … perhaps free? Who knows!

If I had a choice,

I’d choose to stop pretending.

I’d choose to go around naked.

I’d choose to put myself out there for others to see

there is only a breath here wearing skin and curls,

a “who” in here

somewhere,

who still longs for freedom.

And, who knows,

maybe this not so pretentious poem

is just another facade

to pretend

I’m not

pretending.

“The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.” James A. Garfield

Copyright 2013© All rights reserved

Image: layoutsparks.com

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4 Comments

  1. Beautifully written. I thought I gave my love away until I understood my heart. We can not give anything more than invitations, intentions, and chances. What we feel, past or present, is within us as we go toward who we want to become. You have my support, admiration and company. Thank you for sharing. I liked your poem, F

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