On Shame, and more

Poetry (Geneva)


I wish I didn’t write this piece,
But it’s already written

I thank you for taking the time to read it

I ask you for courage before reading it

Time and patience to feel it, not judge it

This doesn’t represent my conscious thinking most of the time,

I ask you not to worry,

Or worry,

But know that, well,

I’m still fine.

Thank you again for reading it,

This will not be an easy read

The first step of this journey
is to see
The ugliness
inside of me

The perceived atrocity,
Layers of fat
Accumulated flaws,

I am that rotten apple,
Hidden in the pile of golden jazz,

Glossy on the outside,
But a worm had taken habitat inside the flesh

When you bite into the apple,
You see the worm, this minuscule slimy creature, the size of a comma,
Crawling outwards, slowly, across the white crunchy flesh of the apple
Leaving a trail of void behind it.

~~~~~ ` ~~~~~~`~

Shame is
Looking into the mirror
And choosing to not see
To look away

Because what stands in front of you
It appalls you
Can’t hold a gaze for more than 5 seconds
Without suffocating
From disgust.

Disgust, yes.
Like you have seen a thousand worms swarming in front of you
Crawling in all directions,
Devouring life

Imagine a kid,
Imagine a young child, female,
Playing peekaboo with herself,
Taking the perceived disgusting parts,
One by one,
And putting them behind this makeshift tent that she constructed

At first, the tent barely held together,
Then she added more pegs, poles, and better sheets
Now it held more space, more strength, to hold her ugliness

She put more and more parts of herself inside
It was safe, it was secluded,
Warms cannot crawl outside,
under the gaze of daylight.

At some point, she moved into this new home.

Under the sheets,
now coated with five plies

Into the darkness,
now a refuge, a disguise

Concealation was a haven,
From the threats outside

Too hideous to reflect light,

Too defective to fit,

Too feeble to breath

Yes, they told her there were threats outside,
Relentless metal wheels that churn,
Their sharp edges, each turn, they’d slash mercilessly
Leaving nothing behind

They’d slash her because she was flawed,
weak, sickly, undeserving,
to be seen, under the lights

The lights blind her,
But more importantly, they scare her

Because she’d be seen

Every time she peeks outside,
She shrinks into a ball, curled up,
To minimize surface area,

Too hideous to reflect light,

Too defective to fit,

Too feeble to breath

I had been so scared of what was outside
I thought inhaling air could burn my lungs

They made me think I would not survive outside,
Because they were scared I would not survive outside,
Because they were scared
Of losing me

So they protected me,
They protected me because they wanted me to live,
They protected me to prevent pain,
And the opposite happened.

I had been scared that the metal wheels would slash across my body,
An outburst of blood and guts,
A tragedy to avoid,
Stay inside.

But the tragedy had already happened.
Mother, father.
It has already happened.
Go outside.

You were scared no one was going to bring me into this world,
Not enough care
so you brought me into the world,
When I wasn’t yet ready

Eyes weren’t open,
Nervous system barely functional,
I couldn’t react.
I couldn’t react to the painful moment of being brought onto this earth
Because my organs hadn’t learned to react
I hadn’t learned to express myself- couldn’t cry.
A baby, so shocked and so unready, that she’s unable to cry.
For a month.
Silence speaks the most horrifying truth.

And then you were scared
that I wouldn’t have enough security,
So you left me, For work

Without a mother’s love,
Without a mother’s milk,

You moved me from the comfort of your womb,
Into this world,
Before I was ready

And then you moved me across the continent,
To a new home,
Before I was ready

This continued.
Stories, stories, stories,
Of how you were protecting me
By rushing me to things and places,
Before I was ready

And then I rushed myself to things and places,
Before I was ready

I became the perfect child that everyone wanted
Except that I didn’t want myself.

I was thirsty, Mother, so thirsty. Perhaps I still am.

Thirst for your love.

A profound hunger,
To be held.

For you to hold me,
Just one moment –
hold me, just one moment -

Embrace me in your arms,
And not let go.

Perhaps one day,
I will forgive.
A part of me already does,
More and more

How does one forgive the bleeding
Open wounds,
Fresh blood blasting out from my veins
From the moment of birth

An accident, a mistake, non-intentional,
Yet a tragedy nonetheless
The tragedy I fight,
The tragedy I hide,
The tragedy I cannot run away from,
Not even in death

Who can bless me with the strength to live this paradox
Of love and pain
Of loneliness and belonging


Maybe it is my 100 Celsius heart
Maybe it is my convoluted mind,
Maybe it is the cage we built, which I call a tent, a home

I don’t know why, I know it’s not normal

But I romanticize about death.
Death is a privilege I do not have.
Or a privilege I do not give myself.

Every time I think about death,
My breathing finally slows down,
My muscles finally relax,
And my vision comes back to me,
Clear and in focus, again

Death is a truth we cannot escape
It is the only truth I possess in this world
And I hold it dear to me.

Death is a force that is bigger than me.
It is something I surrender to,
Perhaps the only thing I surrender to.

Yet I do not allow myself the luxury of death.
Maybe because I have hope,
That love can be given, received, and maintained
That there are friends who see me for who I am,
That these are real connections, genuinely

But also because,
I have the obligation to live,
To render you happy,
To render the world happy.

I have been designed to serve others,
Or so I feel.

I want so desperately,
To bring a smile onto your tired faces.

Stolen moments of pleasure and happiness
They do not belong to me

The peace that death can bring
They do not belong to me

No, they do not belong to me.

So I endure,
I endure this pain
And learn to live with it,
Find beauty in it


I flirt with death

I dance with her dim silhouette,
in a grandiose ballroom,
Our bodies intertwined, entangled,
Yet not touching,

Moving with each other,
Gliding past each other, in synchrony
the space between us,

I invite her into my bedroom
I take out my hands, index finger protruding slightly outside,
And I bring it so close to her naked body I can almost feel her
The faint contour of her beauty and truth, in darkness

I slide my finger slowly across her body,

Barely touching her,

Bringing shivers down her spine
Bringing shivers down my spine
Bringing shivers down your spine