Loved Still

Once upon a time, I was young enough to want to be a writer. ...I hope I am aging backwards and recognizing and re-imagining possibilities. Below are some edited excerpts from my journal.

“I am also learning that I do not want to be loved as an anomaly. I always thought we were loved because we were special. I don’t want to be. I want to be loved as an equal, as not-exotic, as learner-teacher, as fallible, as human.”

I do not want to be held on a pedestal. I want to be recognized as imperfect, angry, horrible, and yet hopeful, changing, perfect.


I want to be seen--
as I am camouflaged in normality
as I float among faces like my own--
because I blend into a sea of humanity

I am noticed though
I am the same

I am neglected wildflowers
vased on
your table
beautiful one day
wilted the next
loved still
differently

I do not
cannot
sit still
on a pedestal

Love does not hold up
as exemplary,
it embraces
the everyday

I am the sun
shining through green-crystal leaves
random, indifferent, imperfect

I am not special
and you love me still
and you love me because