Try to write a bad poem before breakfast.
— William Stafford, as quoted by Naomi Shihab Nye
OK, I’ll try,
but I have never been much good at being bad.
No, it’s not like that!
It’s not that I am good at everything,
or think I am.
It is a deeper pretending,
a tacit avoidance of things not yet known or learned,
a nodding along sometimes when people talk about that book
I should have read by now.
It started early.
“You’re so quiet,” they told me.
“So good at knowing things. So smart.
That’s good!”
They told me so often it’s all I thought I was.
Held up a trick mirror to show
only one edge of my humanity.
They told me so often it’s all I thought I was.
Held up a trick mirror to show
only one edge of my humanity.
Why do we tell children they are anything?
I am still unraveling it,
the tight ball formed around
that one kernel of identity,
like today,
unsure of every word here,
catching myself thinking
I should get better at being bad
before doing it in front of anybody.
—
Originally published in What We Were Born For.
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