Event Horizon
This poem was written from the heart, as the ink poured onto white paper tears formed in my eyes. It was painful to bring up feelings of unworthiness and unwantedness. Feelings I’d compressed inside my heart so that I did not have to face them. As they flowed like a babbling brook there was an instant relief -like when an infection subsides, and the lessening of pressure gives to instant relief. I’ve reread this poem a few times and the tears still well in my eyes.
Us as individuals are the only people who truly know who we are. No matter how long and intimate a relationship with another person might be, they will never know you like you know yourself. The harsh truth I’ve lived with is that I did not deserve the rejection, the abuse, the abandonment from a family that was tortured by generations of emotional immaturity. I did not deserve it in the relationships (friendship and romantic) that I sought throughout my life. Yet, life is not concerned with responsibility as much as it is concerned with accepting one’s path and making a conscience choice to be the best version going forward.
I can admit I have not always been the best version of myself -nor will I ever achieve such perfection, but I haven’t always accepted that I own the choice to change and to seek a better life than my ancestors left as my heritage. The most constant thing in all the known universe is that nothing alive remains in stasis: all matter is constantly evolving and changing. Humans get to change by choice. Embracing my talent as a writer, specifically a poet, and sharing them for any who wish to read (thank you for reading) is part of accepting my choice in my past, present, and future. If I can provide hope for just one simple soul by opening a window into my life, then my purpose here is accomplished.
I tried to share my feelings-
Show my darkness and my light-
Say when things hurt
Articulate when they filled me with light.
But all who listened turned a deaf ear,
Or, worse, left me cold and alone.
This, the story from childhood.
Played out over and over again:
That the star burning inside of me is too much.
That I am an ever present blight upon this earth:
Destined to be alone-
Abandoned, forsaken, even criticized for existing.
No one wanting to understand me.
That even those who say love me-
Will shun and ignore me-
Believing I harbor darkness
And they are afraid it will consume them.
I feel like a black hole:
None are able to see beyond my event horizon. I feel like a black hole,
None are able to see beyond my event horizon.
See me as a young child
Dressed in a red cowboy hat,
Chasing geese, those villains of the yard.
Pretending to rescue those in distress.
See a young man excited for trips to the library-
Where countless worlds of wonder abound!
Who rests his head against cold glass-
Watching trees whiz by on long road trips
Longing to be lost in the beauty of nature.
What is beyond my event horizon?
A man neglected and abandoned-
Whose will is to be seen and accepted:
For he has a sensitive heart and caring soul.
Able to inspire even the lowest of morales-
A wonderful soul who was taught to hide. -EJB