For too long, I’ve been in hiding,
hiding behind
who you say I am
and am not
hiding within the crowd
who needed me
to be this or that
hiding behind the bluster
the naming
the numbering
Layering new identities
like dress-up clothes
hot and stiff
“Wife”
“Mother”
“Writer”
“Speaker”
“Ass”
I went along with it
letting you carve out
smaller and smaller spaces
for “I” to inhabit.
But deep inside
sheltered in the small and forgotten
I was hiding
dying to be Alone, again.
Dying for the spacious place
the quiet
the individual
the alone.
Dying for someone to remember…
“Poet”
“Daydreamer”
“Encourager”
“Romantic”
It’s hard to shake the shackles
to resist – no, reject –
your naming
the restraints
of who you can see
who you need me to be.
Let me alone, now.
I am weary of hiding.
The wind calls,
the ocean
the sun
the branches
call me back to myself.
I need to stretch
and shake
these cramped thoughts.
I won’t stay for you.
I need to be alone, now.