~~~~~Still Here Despite it All~~~~~~
© 2022 Lauren M. Hancock
what is it about me that this some of this world seems to abhor? Am I not immaculate enough, in and of myself, to be considered something sightly and toward? Someone worthy of being heard? Of not being ostracised, unread, too? Am I something so abhorrent that they cannot understand my illness, that this decrepit twin which attaches itself to me during delusions and paranoia and versions of heightened moods, exists, my flagrant mania? Is there no care, concern, nor empathy to be viewed, to be seen? I feel just a walking ghost, with a gust of wind who shouldn’t matter at all, I slide through loosely hung sheets, trailing my stature because to them, I’m no longer seen, and I am not whining, nor crying, nor languishing, or despairing, I am simply making a point that I feel I’m not here yet again.
But it shouldn’t matter for this is my own path, forging ahead is the pathway to choose, I choose to continue, I desire to be seen, to be heard, and if I can’t, if I’m such a joke then why is it that when those whom I love hear my creations, my poems, my words, they are impressed, surely I’m not being humoured by all, that their words are to me a version of being blessed? No, this cannot be the case with all. I do not believe it to be as such, I know I can in thrall.
I can make my mark, in my main world I already have, and if this is how I’m met elsewhere, with hostility and dangerous eyes, and allusions, and insinuations which are mean and cruel and unkind, well, dears, I will still continue on my path, it’s not even a fight. It’s a means of reckoning with myself, telling, assuring myself that I am worthy of freedom, expression, and here, those foes, once-friends, there is nothing more important here, nothing more, if anything, than this I will put on the pulse. I was ill. I should not have to make amends. Feel my heartbeat, I am still here, breathing and living, and I will not allow others to dictate my fall. I can do that all by myself, and through experience I have learned to soar so well.
© 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
(c) 2022 my own photo