One day you realize that, that someone living inside waiting to be set free has become a pale reflection of what she once was
Every day she seems to tire of pleading with you more and more quickly
Her voice grows dimmer and her influence diluted and half-hearted
You are wondering how long she will last, How long?
Every morning when you lock her away she goes, almost willingly
You realize that you are losing her to the trials and stifling situation of this world
That she needs to be set free soon, sooner now for she is dying, ever slowly, she is heart broken and lonely
Then, finally, you realize that, that day is just around the corner
And that by holding her in, you hurt her almost more than setting her free at the wrong time and place
You mourn because it was you who hurt her, not the world, and you long to set her free
At last that day has come and with it peace of heart and joy no words can describe
You tell her that she can go, be set free, and she flies away with gratitude in her heart for you and who you could become with your true self truly set free
Just typing that out was an exercise in balancing both sides of myself.
On the one hand, I find my younger self possibly more in touch with me than I've been in many years. I'm getting the hang of it again, slowly but some of the insight in the poem is spot on for what I've been working through years later...in some ways at least.
On the other hand, well, it's a right mess of a poem. If I would even call any of this, or the other writings in this book truly poetry. I'm not sure that I always had delusions of grandeur as far as being a poet. But I think I had more moments than I want to admit, as a teenager. But there is also something to going for something full tilt, consequences and other's opinions be damned.
So, again I can definitely learn from my younger self, I had more wisdom than I realized. That said, I know that I am mostly wiser now, though some days it's hard to have something to show for it.
I often think that it's because being an adult and balancing that with creating time for creativity and play is extremely hard. We are told so many things about being all grown up. Our younger selves longed for the freedom that comes attached but had no concept of the utter terror that comes with being the sole responsible party for financing the rest of your life. If you fuck it up, well, you are kind of screwed.
At least that was the message I got loud and clear. You have to shape up, stop messing around, and be a real adult. To me the subtext of this was putting away all the "childish" things that I enjoyed doing as a kid. Somehow it also ended up meaning that I wasn't allowed to do anything fun until all of the important things were done...and that list was unending. Being an adult was not supposed to be fun. You get a job, you work the job, you pay your bills, and you spend your free time doing chores.
I've been working on setting my adult self free from these notions. I got the wrong idea, somehow. Being an adult is definitely not what I dreamed it would be, but I don't think anything is exactly as you dream it to be...ever, really. If I work at it, I do think that being my own person will be better than the dreams I had of some fantastical freedom. It is better because I am really, truly free to be me.