I am not the woman people envy <br />in her confident, got-it-all-together stride. <br />I am not that person who is called to offer prayer <br />in a gathering of Christians. <br />I do not sing like an angel, or paint beauty <br />into hungry and inspired artists’ minds. <br />I am not that woman. I’m not destined for dizzy fame <br />or breathless stolen kisses. <br /> <br />I am the woman who smiles at grasshoppers, <br />and lifts her face to smell rain. <br />I am the woman standing in the middle <br />of a muddy pasture with hay in her hair. <br />I am the woman who looses her giggles <br />in the quiet corners of inappropriate places. <br />I am the one who wants to chance wearing <br />purple with green, but chooses black. <br /> <br />I am the mother who knows a special child <br />is always on stage, and should dress accordingly. <br />I am the daughter and sister who visits a lonely hill <br />at midnight to confess my pain to headstones. <br />I am the jealous lover of time, <br />and all things I missed before heaven thrust me <br />wet, screaming, and angry into the unprepared <br />arms of my religious mother. <br /> <br />I am not someone you would remember <br />seeing on a sidewalk in Paris. <br />I am the woman who drops her papers <br />in the crowded hallways of life. <br />I leave bits of myself to be sorted <br />for future generations to read and wonder; <br />“Who was she, to find herself worthy <br />of a legacy of love and words? ” <br /> <br />(©2006)<br /><br />Shirley Alexander<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/here-in-the-life-of-an-unknown-poet/
