conformity – One Woman's Quest

The Loner

Never joined a sorority,
irked by the concept
of conformity…

Besides, those girls
flirted with audacity,
while my self-image
was frail, shattered by
the fraternity next door.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

Dressed in our finest personas
we submit to public scrutiny,
polish our performances, risk
criticism to achieve the prize

Practice behind the scenes
preparing lists and scripts,
questioning qualifications,
comparisons deflating egos

Yet we succumb to pressure
step into the spotlight, react
emotions and insecurities
demolishing golden intentions

We scramble for our lines,
to maintain integrity, curse
our folly, our vulnerability
slaves to external editors

Competition eradicates value
of black and white resumes
survival of the fittest presides
we race to stay in the running

traces of authenticity discarded
like unwanted footage, spliced
realities catering to contrived
standards: a social experiment.

Imagine befriending genius –
accepting social awkwardness
embracing habitual quirks as
incubation for enlightenment.

If I could strip down, release
preconceived notions, agendas,
lie naked, exposed, in shallow
waters, intimately entwined,

unencumbered by sexuality
or gender protocols, I would
shake this sensual impotency –
become one with creativity.

As my father, wounded, I
am inhibited by my feminine,
opting for compliance over
strength, a conditioned identity.

His mystery extends, flawless
sculpting, archetypal secrets,
pretense proclaiming normalcy,
usurping vitality, genius stifled.