too much history, where there was pain.
so much strength, where I have strained to find you.
with all that we have lost, together.
I, myself have gained boundless measures within this life.

  Simple to count...
                                                        ­                             family
                                            boots
        ­                                                           coffee
         love
                                                            ­                                               books
                             winter
                                                          ­       mystery
        long nights
                                                          ­                             city lights
                                                  fog
    ­                                                            exper­ience
            music
                                         ­                                                     great films
                               cherries
                                                        ­   fall
                                                            ­                                 peaches
               mangoes
                                                         ­            the future
                                  poets
                  ­                                                                 ­             and their poetry.

We are not the names we carry.
We are the years we wear.
We are not cursed creatures.
We are not our bodies.
We are infinite certainties.

i've been told i need
to feel like myself
be comfortable in
my own skin

but it's not so
much the skin

(i'm used to the scars
and jagged red slits
pink and white
stretch marks
corners and curves
i've had to accept)

it's the hair
the way it grows
on my arms and
legs and face and
neck and back
and eyes

whether what's coming
out of my scalp is
brown or pink or some
unhappy color in between

being okay
if it's short or
long or up or
down or dry or
soft or clean or
a day or two *****

(growing into the
length and volume
the sore weakness
of my own neck
was the hardest
part of getting older)

not being
defined by who
the follicles make
me out to be

(the patience
to wait or
the daring to
change)

is when i'll know
that i feel
comfortable under
my own scalp.