On Being a Stranger

Poem published in Colloquy, Spring 2022

on being a stranger

you can spend your whole life chasing authenticity and find out you don’t know the meaning of the word

a stranger in your own skin; not at home in yourself

you can’t see yourself

in five years
                  (or in love)
                  (or as a parent)(or happy)(or not in pain)

when you can’t see yourself
            in a mirror

there’s a fog over everything. it’s hard to realize you’re the only one who can’t see right

things look different from that perspective
you don’t know what’s wrong but
            you’ve always felt like an alien
                                                        (ever at arm’s length)(your ways are strange)

every movement: like in a nightmare, trying to run
            your limbs feel Wrong
                          untethered
            the world bends away underneath you
there, but not there

you get very good at losing yourself to survive

staring too long at the flames would mean acknowledging you’re on fire
            no one else sees it
                      you can’t explain it
all you can do is look away

the easiest place to lose yourself is in other people
            sometimes, they’ll let you
                      sometimes, they like it
                                      (they like You)

it’s as addictive as anything else you can lose yourself in completely
            a total abnegation
                      disintegration
                                      you’ll swear it’s transcendence

there’s a special brightness in the eyes when the fog clears
            an appreciation for how much there is to see
                          and a thirst to see it anew

how do you share what you learned on the other side? merely having been there, it’s alienating
            how can you explain what it is to feel Wrong to those who have always felt right?
                                                                                                                                    (always belonged?)

but you’re trying You on for size
            feeling your weight under yourself
                          and it feels good

like every grand journey, it’s about finding the way home