(Photo credit: photosylvia / silabox…occupée)
Where was I for all of those years
When all I could focus on were all of my fears?
I couldn’t make contact, I couldn’t embrace,
I couldn’t look at anyone, square in the face.
I stuttered and stammered with shyness so tense,
I couldn’t show up with any sense of intent.
I couldn’t express my thinking–
Did I even have thoughts?
I was stuck in a place behind a self-made prison wall.
Self-consciousness consumed me.
Self-esteem was so lacking,
That my entire back bone had no backing.
I was a highly sensitive child, a shrinking violet inside.
Sensations were uncomfortable. I could feel what people thought.
Don’t glance my way! Don’t ask me to speak!
As my face would grow pink with a flush of great heat.
But the malady has eased since I was a youngster–
My blossoming took many years,
But now this gentle-petaled Rose has brushed aside her fears.
