Is there room enough here for all of us
the many faces of me?
They don’t know how to coexist
and it seems one is always lost in the dark.
There is one, the poet, the dreamer the fool
with the innocent heart of a child.
She believes in dreams and fairy tales
and that her words will someday be heard.
Then there is practical, everyday me
the one who gets the job done.
She tends and cares and fixes and heals
she has nothing left for herself.
The new me that has come to life
is one I’ve not known before.
She is healthy and strong and pushing her limits
focused solely on herself.
I like this me, though I have to admit,
I don’t know her very well.
She is careful not to let anyone in
for fear they may knock her down.
She is fragile though appears quite strong
in function and in form.
Building her body from the inside out
to allow herself to stand strong.
She is new like the dawn and quiet
as the dawn becomes the day.
It’s hard not to lose her in the hustle and bustle
as life sets forth its demands.
I am fighting for her, I’d like her to stay,
like to get to know her well.
I know she so much to teach me
about who I really am.