Fear and Identity

I was afraid from early on to act on my passions, 
because the price was too high, 
life too fragile.
Instead, paying the high price of developing a fragile life 
because of its been afraid to toughen. 
 
Afraid, 
believing that I did not have the right to forge a place of my own liking and compatibility in the world.  
Still believing.  
Still facing the unbelievably entrenched fears:
How little I can let myself, my passion, ME be me.
  
Someone deeply believed that my nature as a human being must be disassociated at all costs, 
and I learned it.  
I know it is not only me. 
Others face the agony, 
the excruciating pain of traveling from disassociation to identity.

And my life must not now be over.  
I can still have the things I want, but I don't know how.  
I have not had a family, 
I have not kept faith and traveled with friends.  
I have not pursued making the world need my skills and contributions
 as part of the machinery of life.  
I have not made my identity with myself and with humankind.


Orig 1983
Revised 2011
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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