Why do we hide who we really are?
Our hopes, dreams, true selves--
When they are burning bright within us,
Desperate to love and be loved
Twisting and curling in on themselves
As too much heat and ambition stifle them
Why do we hide, when we have so much to give
And accomplish
And dream?
Why is it okay to tuck our true hearts back in the corner
Of our chests, never to bring them out?
And we say: one day. One day, when
The world is different, or my family or life or
Society is different, then I’ll show who I really am.
Be who I really am. We say:
No one will understand; I don’t want to cause too much
Trouble.
In the meantime, I’ll just do this, be this.
And if we feel guilty, we tell ourselves
It’s for the greater good, that we’re sacrificing
For the sake of others, people we love.
People who will never know what we give up. But.
If they knew, would they really be proud of us?
Accept our sacrifice, like intended?
Or
Would their eyes soften, blurred with tears and regret
At the loss, hearts breaking for what could have been?
For their own loss, the things they had to give up too?
And where does that leave us?
In a circle of good intentions and incongruous outcomes
That plays on a loop
Drawn out like a scene from Tolstoy
With no end in sight. And when did this become our lives?
All of us carry around within us something precious,
Special, life-changing even.
But we lock it away;
We stumble in the ensuing darkness looking for an alternative,
But there is no substitute for light.
We all carry around lights within us,
Waiting to illuminate the world with joy
Goodness
Creativity
And love. And all we gain from shuttering it,
Locking it away,
Is darkness.
