Secret #15 My Song

I could not imagine a picture that could go with this post.

So first of all, it is important to understand that I do not write poetry. The few times I have were for school assignments. I do not profess to be a poet, or even a "creative writer." Most of my writing is done through papers about things that I am reading. But, through a series of circumstances, I have written a personal poem. You may not see this as a "secret," but to me it is. Here it is:

My Song

It is difficult to celebrate myself; to sing my song…
All of myself,
The big expanse of white, bursting, expanding, growing,
And the small dark knot locked away.

I am you…and yet… am I?
I am the comedian on stage, the death mourner left alone, the soldier’s wife…and soldier too.
The child playing, running, filled with immense color…
The artist, secretary, and steel worker.

I am many faces, I touch them all.
I feel them come out of me… into me.

I touch the grass and feel the universe, its massive light and feeling.
All of me is felt in that grass…almost.

What is this thing I’m looking at, feeling, touching… realizing?
Can I fully celebrate when I cannot let this go?
This hurts, its stings, I feel it hide again…and I am calm.

But I will smile… I will assume the role… I will look whole.
I will celebrate all that you see…while cherishing that knot.
~

I hope you liked it. Feel free to let me know what you think.