self

My sense of self has been, these past seven days, I don't know. Everywhere.
Last weekend someone I'd met only hours before gave me a check for $500 to help cover medical bills. I have never ever felt I deserve something like this. Twice this week I have been strong enough to stand behind words I'd written and call them mine, and twice, strong enough to claim beauty as my intended result. I've swallowed down lumps in my throat the size of a fist and swallowed down pure mouthfuls of love--the type I always thought I'd have to bargain for, but no! It's just been given! I have been Not Good Enough and Not Reaching Far Enough and I have also been Exactly Right. I have not replaced the ripped bike tire. I am not going to. I have played through half a hymnal at a piano keyboard and wished I'd remembered to say thank you one more time to the woman who first showed me middle C. I have been a disaster. Nothing less than an utter failure. I'm stung, but worst still, stinging. I am going to just hope that the smell of decay wafts away. It's true that I am a coward. I'm also taking leaps. I have been a child and a shadow and a lover and a piece of stone and am surprised when I realize this all adds up.