By John Baker
Can I let go of what others think of me?
What would that be like?
Has there ever been a time when
I did not bounce off of other’s opinions?
So little confidence in myself
They must have been right
Even If I didn’t believe them?
I am but I am not
Yes and no, I don’t know
Is what I think and feel
What I think and feel?
When I was a boy, my parents said I was sensitive
Later, others said I had cloth ears
Didn’t know anything, innocent
Head in the clouds, always somewhere else
Drawing pictures I dreamed but didn’t see
People will just walk all over you they all said:
Then someone did…
And, consequently, I blamed myself.
I am but I am not
Yes and no, I don’t know
Is what I think and feel
What I think and feel?
When I was adolescent I hated me;
My frontal lobe burned with injustices
Shrinking from the inevitable punches
In the classroom, the corridors, the playground
I didn’t fight back. They called me creep, weird,
Could they all see through me
To my pain, my shame?
I am but I am not
Yes and no, I don’t know
Is what I think and feel
What I think and feel?
Now I am here I have learned
What happened that I hid is not
My shame; sitting in my home
I can tell the younger me that
It wasn’t my fault but the abuser’s
Not my crime but the abuser’s
He saw not me, but a thing
To damage
I am myself; a Survivor
Hurt but strong
What folk think of me
Is up to them.
