Shoulders

A man crosses the street in the rain,

Stepping gently, looking two times north and south,

Because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.

No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world's most sensitive cargo

But he is not marked.

Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,

HANDLE WITH CARE.

His ear feels up with breathing.

He hears the hum of the boy's dream 

Deep inside him.

We're not going to be able to live in this world 

If we're not willing to do what he's doing 

With one another

The road will be wide

The rain will never stop falling.

-Naomi Shibab Nye

The vessel

under the surface

sometimes I wish I wasn't me. I feel so uncomfortable with myself, so un-normal. I wish I didn't have to be me. I try to accept this is how I am and seek ways to adjust, move forward. I feel myself pacing in my head, never really moving. somedays I hate it, the discomfort. I feel fragile, i feel others will see my dislike for myself in my eyes. I have fleeting thoughts of harming myself, to punish myself, to hurt the part of me i dislike. i am scared of who i am and who i may become. i am scared of reverting to a former version of myself. i am scared the world will expose me for being the scared little kid who lives inside me. everyday, i take a deep breath and tell myself i can do it, i can make it.

B