Shame

in grade school,

when names were hurled at my body

that it was unacceptable—I felt its punches.

in the heat of an argument with my lover

it startles parts of myself

that have not been loved.

I hear it in my Romanian mothers silence

when I share

that my aloneness in the world

devours my heart.

many nights I have cried myself to sleep to its songs

so as to hear my story more clearer.

stands in my path with all my excuses,

when I choose to move toward the path of freedom.

This relationship with this witness,

shows me there is more here.

despite the desolation and gravity—it births glory.

I am its student for a time,

until I learn what is and what is not mine.

teaching, not everything that can be held

should I touch or hold on to.

not everything I think, needs to be said or heard.

and the many names the world has misnamed me for

is to help recognize the name within.