c 1992 Stephanie St. Claire
I wanted to be me
and be loved by you,
though it was me that you didn't want to see.
You had an image etched in your mind
of a child, then a woman
made like your kind...
strong, and intelligent, and achieving;
not broken and battered and needing your help.
I feel that I have disappointed you somehow.
I am human. I am mortal.
I am irreparably brain damaged.
There are mountains that can no longer be conquered.
Will you stand with me at the base
and admire the mountain's beauty,
or will you struggle on the mountain's face
and blame me for no longer joining the struggle;
expending endless energy on a fruitless task?
You, as I, let go slowly,
or not at all,
and take great pride in never giving up.
I have found that sometimes
and seeing the mountain,
and respecting both,
ends the struggle,
and frees energy
within my reach,
only by letting go.