This Is Me (poem)

being one's true self is an act of courage but not one without challenge

the first stanza of my poem on a green-orange-yellow gradient background. The word "moss" is written in mossy bubble letters, and the words "I want to tell you who I am, but..." are in a text message notification above it. There are green and yellow paperclips on opposite corners.

---

I'm "out and proud" online and amongst my closest loved ones, but with others? I'm terrified to tell them, show them who I really am, quite frankly. You'd think my heart would have hardened with all that bullying, but instead, it has acquired a formidable softness that doesn't have the patience for any more ableism, bigotry, or ignorance ("well-meaning" or not). Anyway, April is Autism Acceptance Month (so much assonance! 😆), so I figured this was a fitting piece to share. ☺️

---

I want to tell you

who I am

but moss has coated my tongue,

words now alien to this mouth of jade.

I want to show you

who I am

but kudzu vines have tethered these wrists—

these hands, this heart afraid

of what you'll think.

Being artistic and "a bit eccentric" is okay, but how about being autistic?

Being "a manic pixie dream girl" is coveted,

but how about being a ball of panic & a head of cumulus clouds?

Being a guy or girl is to be expected,

but how about being neither?

Loving one guy is perfectly fine,

but how about loving a woman or gender-nonconforming person, perhaps at the same time?

Being "a little spacey and fidgety" is acceptable and potentially even endearing,

but how about having combined-type ADHD?

I'm afraid

of what you'll think,

but I'm far more tired than afraid.

I'm tired of that grassy taste on the back of my tongue

and my happy hands have fallen silent.

So I'll finally give my caged flowers a way out

by opening my mouth and exhaling three words:

This is me

in all my violet morning glory. Here's my story.

Accept it or reject it

or be threatened by it,

I won't feel, be any less me,

but that doesn't mean

I won't feel weak in the knees

as I await your response

that I only ever hope

is one of loving kindness and understanding.