Hidden beneath the soil.
The world will not see me. The world will not understand me.
I can crawl around beneath the rocks of this world,
But I cannot show myself to the brethrens
That dwell above the very roots of this Earth
And is known with the light that shines among them.
I close myself within the very fortress of the soil that
Surrounds me. I cannot be hurt.
I slowly rise above the soil and look out
Where the sun shines upon every man
And puts life in motion for each to see
Who I am. I bring myself back into my enclosure.
They mocked me. They hurt me.
Different is not taken kindly to those whose ethic is
To be normal.
I stay within my safety zone beneath the roots,
I may be mocked but I cannot hear it.
For where I was born may be my coffin,
But at least I will not have to hear those words again.
But the soil was ripped apart and my home
Of safety was no more. The light burned my eyes
But it saved me from my cries.
Hands came to me to which I took,
I clambered up to be taken afoot,
For what was before me were the loves of those
Willing to accept me for who I am.
‘Normal’ may not be part of my agenda,
But uniqueness is the loved criteria.
YOU ARE READING
The Phillips Anthology
PoetryA mix of persona-styled poems as well as personal poems - poems which have been a reflecting upon my life and my view upon life. Some filled with dark, saddening poems, whilst others show hope and light. Enjoy reading these poems and appreciate all...