by Betania Tesch
There are places in myself
I cannot access anymore.
The locks have been changed
to the doors that lead to the girl
who was all fire and poetry
corridors rearranged and
lights flickering ominously
as I try to wind my way back to
the person I was when I was
trying to be the person I am.
And I am pounding my fists
on the door of the reality
of even the possibility
that gone are the days
when it all came with ease
and trying desperately to
jimmy the lock back into her:
17, jaded, uncompromising, unparalleled.
In the confusion of the construction
of the woman I wanted to be
I built walls to block out the girl
who I worked so hard to love
in hopes of a high-rise of perfection
shooting into the sky
as a testament to human ability,
an everlasting symbol of becoming.
And trapped somewhere in the
infrastructure of it all
a voice whimpers these verses
that I can only hear
when I give up tearing through walls
in search of her
and sit in quiet conversation
as the woman I've become
is the voice of the girl I will always be.
Author's Note: something about being an adult...
Posted on 07/05/2008
Copyright © 2020 Betania Tesch
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Anya Kaats on 03/16/09 at 11:35 PM|
this is absolutely beautiful writing. excellent poem.
|Posted by Charlie Morgan on 03/31/09 at 03:29 PM|
...worthy of POTD, so well said, touching allllll the lil' spaces and bases betwixt and between the girl to woman collage...lovely turning of concepts in this...that lil' 17 hr.old will always be with you...
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/31/09 at 05:02 PM|
Congrats on POTD! An astute observation of growth and development.
|Posted by Paul Marino on 04/02/09 at 04:20 PM|
adult material. yum
|Posted by Laura Doom on 04/19/09 at 12:17 AM|
How easy it used to be, when everything else was disastrous :>)
Hmm [afterthought] -- there must be another rationale...