If I could stop pretending

Copyright 2013© All rights reserved

by Samadhi Yaisha

“My life was never mine to begin with.”

❦

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.

❦

Text omitted here. Text omitted here. 

Text omitted here. Text omitted here.

Text omitted here. Text omitted here

❦

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