Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Poem-The Path

The first thing I remember wanting to be when I grew up (besides a Charlie’s Angel) was a poet. Then, I think I figured out that you can’t make money that way. I wrote poetry constantly as a child. When I say constantly, I mean constantly. I had a disturbing, abusive childhood complicated by both my and my family’s mental illnesses (especially my mother). I used poetry like I use my joke notebook now. I process life with words on paper. But, where my poetry only wallowed in the pain, my comedy has freed me from it.

I wrote the following poem when I was 16 years old in Ridgeview Institute, a psychiatric facility/rehab in Atlanta where I spent 9 months and attended 11th grade. That was my first of two stays in a psychiatric hospital in my life. This is my favorite poem I have written. I once performed this poem at a spoken word/ poetry slam in Athens, GA, and it was very cathartic and fulfilling. It was also published in my college magazine. Typing the words now, I can barely remember what some of those feelings felt like. But, some of the themes are very much with me today, although perhaps manifested in different ways. And so, I release yet another thing from my head onto this blog. Here is “The Path.”

The Path

I see the path to follow
I’ve always know the way
But something seems to stop me
And make me want to stay

What if I get halfway there
And can’t see my way back?
I don’t know my way forward
So, I’m standing there, just sad

I see the road to happiness
It’s so close yet far away
And every time I take a step
I move back another day

What if I finally make it
And it not what it seemed?
What if it’s not anything
Like everything I’ve dreamed?

Where do I go then
Disappointed and afraid?
And what if it means nothing
All the progress that I’ve made?

I’ve just spun my wheels
And gotten almost nowhere
How long does it have to be
Before I know I’m somewhere?

Feet-they kick me forward
Hands-they drag me in
Which one is the enemy?
Which one is a friend?

Who is here to hurt me?
Who can see me through?
Who am I to trust?
Tell me, can I trust you?

Or does it really matter
Down which road I walk?
I think they’re all in circles
That just may never stop

1 comment:

Me Conoces said...

Pretty deep stuff for a 16yo to write. I'd like to see what type of poems you would write now.