A poem of “I”

I think of those who shield and hide their own vulnerability
at the cost of, perhaps, their humanity
I think some shields are an illusion, I see only my own fear
of my very own vulnerability
I was born into a world unmarked by labels or patriotic fervor
ignorant of distant freedoms
ignorant of the voices urging strength at any cost, to be found
was to be lost and humans tossed on a pile.
At that moment of naked awakening, I was entirely vulnerable
trusting in the love of parents and family
We often see the consequences of neither, yet vulnerability
is derided by some who have loud voices,
I want to think anew now, not make do with the old norms
accepted forms, put my defenses aside, turn and greet
the incoming tide.
Vulnerability reveals the places where my pain gets in, under
my old skin, where times passage has eroded me
Perhaps, I muse again in that passage of pain I may yet
learn to live again, celebrating my vulnerability.

Chris P