Adonis Hammock

What's in a Name?

What’s in a name?

Is it money or fame?

Status, validity,

or maybe identity?

For some, it is given–

forms a life they should live in.

Motivation or meaning,

a foundation for dreaming.

And what’s in a name?

Does it make you the same

as another? Can we separate

from it? Do you know the letters hate

you just as much as you hate them?

Yes, there, that is the stem

of this feeling I know

and the pain it bestows.

But what’s in a name?

Why does it bring some shame?

Why can some hear it in the birds’

song? They can feel it along the curves

of the bodies they wish they could shape 

into straight lines. A taunt they cannot escape

from the mouths of loved ones, a spike

in their chest. This body of hate, this mind deathlike.

Yet, what’s in a name?

Did it ever have an aim?

Did they exaggerate the meaning?

Some are desperately leaning

into longing for something that won’t be provided,

forcing out effort that is sobersided.

They reject what was supposedly sacred,

wanting more than a picture somebody else painted.

Still, what's in a name?

Is it something you tame?

Something you must grab hold of

and fit in the mold of?

Is it something just introductory 

to life? Is it only perfunctory?

Does it have to define you?

Is it something inside you?

Though, what’s in a name?

What sets decisions aflame?

It puts up thorned perimeters

in this body, and holds itself prisoner.

Is it a leech, a parasite that you must detach,

Or a chrysalis cracking, ready to hatch?

Does it break you apart, or does it make you whole?

Truly, this is the affliction of the soul.

What’s in a name?

Well, it could be a game.

It could be destiny, love, or renown.

It could be agony, pulling you down.

A name is a crown, one you’ll grow into,

Something you choose, if that’s what you’re meant to. 

It’s given and taken, cheered and blamed,

But be not mistaken, it’s yours to reclaim.