You Were Always More

You were always more than

your mother’s child.

the judgment of your elders and your peers.

naiveté wrapped up in a bubble labeled innocence.

You always held wisdom you hid.

 

You were always more than

swirling eyes, seeing but rarely seen.

an underground river of desire.

soft spoken whispers in a boisterous conversation.

You could steal the light of the stars.

 

You were always more than

your own snickering self-criticism.

the knife blade murmurs, gazes aimed at your sanity, heart, soul.

the perfect you were expected to be and despised for all at once.

You were always deeper than the ocean of dreams.

 

You were always more than

just another patient, another name on another medical file.

your disease, your affliction, your disability.

the silent pain echoing from an unseen future.

You were always braver than a fish out of water.

 

You were always more than

just a shiny bobble.

stardust scattering on the winds of light.

a butterfly to be collected and pinned to the wall, preserved in death.

You could never be contained.

 

You were always more than

a window display, posed perfectly behind unfathomable glass.

your crappy identification photos, your hair never quite right.

your skin, a predetermined stereotype nailing you in an immobile box.

You went beyond the surface.

 

You were and always are more.

Author's Note

Thoughts?

Reviews

[sinNsincerity]

Our naiveté can be our hamartia . . .
We are always more, but we don't always see it in ourselves.
A poem like this for a friend or whoever may just help them see that.
Great job Mariah.
-David