Your Poem From Me Request #4

The Giving Cause: This Is Me . . . Right?

This is me . . . Right?
I know me. I love me.
Everything about me is
different from anyone else.
My curves. My voice. The softer
and jigglier space that is
my middle. My hair. My eyes.
I know me. I love me.

It’s what I keep telling myself.
I have to do this.
I have to remind myself of
the goodness of me.
But I flit–fall into
the echos of my younger self,
lassoed by a time when I
was smaller, more headstrong,
and confident.

I try to push myself
through the present–try to
shift my mind to this
here and now, yet . . .
the past is a mistress.
She keeps calling me, you see.
I am weak for her.
She knows.

I look at NOW me–I
have doubts. I long to
embrace the woman who
smiles back at me in
the mirror–to make peace
with her.
I have to. I should.

If I don’t, what will
happen to me?

This is me . . . Right?
I know me. I love me.
I’ll keep telling myself
who I am . . . who we are . . .
And one day, the mistress
of a PAST me will
grow silent.

Thank you to Kathy Garland for allowing me to gift a poem to you. Writing this spoke to me in many ways.

To learn more about the Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life.


spaghetti strap-sized scoldinggirls used to get sent home fortheir sunburnt shoulders why would we make it so easy to oglewhy would we make it so worth looking at how often were we taught thatsomeone else’s wandering gazewas our fault


If you’re not reading Elle, perhaps you should be. This poem is a gut-punch and will remain with me for quite some time.

Let it marinate. It’ll stick with you too.