Is This Still Me?

Was that really me
fought for feminine rights,
persistent to the win?

And was that me
lied about her age
strapped on work clothes
bore responsibility?

And did you know her
that obstinate teen
who defied tradition
and chased an education?

Where did she go,
a faint memory now,
how life tamed her,
taught her subservience

to bury her light
in the shadow of men’s
dreams, that toil should be
selfless, and love for other.

Listen, and you will hear
her echo, faint but growing,
the sound of a mind burning,
the laughter of a soul on fire.

(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: Was that really me?, and Eugi’s Weekly prompt: laughter.  Image from personal collection.)



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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

47 thoughts on “Is This Still Me?

      1. Likely the sense of time running out is a factor … for me, another factor is the increasing solitude w/o mandates and distractions … easier to hear that echo when daily noise hushes. Age has advantages!

        Liked by 2 people

  1. We live through signs of the times. We endeavor when we were needed then as we do now. Each chapter in our lives has a purpose. This is a stellar piece, V.J.! Thank you for participating.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Your poem captures so well the experience I’ve had (several times) of losing myself and then coming back to myself again. That last stanza is something I should carry with me to make sure I keep my essential “meness” alive.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Absolutely love this. We give up parts of ourselves as we think we need to do for others, and then reclaim them, becoming ourselves again. And how wonderful that rediscovery is!

    Liked by 1 person

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