In the Rough

 

Would that you knew me

who I actually am, and

not some misguided notion

of who you perceive me to be…

Would that you knew

the inner workings of my mind,

all the cuts and mars that line my soul.

Would you find me intriguing

…or just a fool in kind?

         I’d like to believe the years 

have polished this once rough stone,

smoothed its edges, honed its patina—

I think I’ve come into my own.

We grow from the light that shines upon us

we change to become who we need to be

and what we endure either reforms or break us

we can rise from the depths, or drown in the sea.

The scars that we carry do not define us

our passions, our fury, comes from within;

and each hit we take that is meant to collapse us

invokes reason to stand in defiance again.

 I’ve seen what you’re made of, the darkness you carry

but also the light you have hidden inside

and accept you’ve been places that I haven’t travelled

through the stories you’ve shared or what you’ve implied.

Would that you knew what I carried inside me,

would you pull back in horror from what you had seen?

Or accept who I am— in whole or in pieces—

knowing full well we are more than we seem

or leave without knowing what lies in the shadows

    and nary a clue to what might have been.

© Ginny Brannan 2021