I slowly remove the garments.
I expose my flesh.
Do you see my tone arms as I pull off the shirt?
Are my ribs visible on my back?
The curve of my hips,
The soft, seldom seen sink on my upper thigh,
Are you looking?
This is who I am. I am exposed. I am naked. As bare as I was thirity plus years to the day. Then there was nothing to hide. There was innocence some thirty or more years ago and the exposure seemed natural.
Today, there is still nothing to hide. It is still only me. This is who I am. Are you looking?
Does it make you uncomfortable? My exposure? My openness? My willingness to let you see all of me? My willingness to share who I am openly? If I do make you uncomfortable, why don't you turn away?
It's not only flesh you see. It is the heaving of my chest as I breathe. Every breath sustains who I am.
Who I am.
Who am I?
I am only what I believe.
I am the cumulating the experiences I have had.
The people I have known
The longings I have had
Those I have loved and lost.
This is who I am. No more, no less.
Does it make you uncomfortable? The words I write? The feelings they invoke? Then why don't you cover your eyes? Why must you continue to look?
I believe in honesty. Naked truth. Truth that can not be hidden by man's disapproval or disbelief.
Touch, feel, open, warmth, combined with truth and caring and love.
Does it make me a monster? To expose my everything? Does it make me dirty or bad to be naked and exposed in the truth?
You are the voyeur
Do you gaze at me?
Do you watch with anticipation?
Do you desire to be naked in the truth?
Then why do you instead just stare in judgment?
You are who you are because of
The people you have known
The loves you have had and lost
But you are a voyeur--you look, you stare--and you have come to condemned me.
Maybe you are the one who should feel ashamed.
12 comments:
None of live in a glass house.very nice post CM.
thanks mom... =)well put
Hold on...I gotta send you my favorite poem by my favorite anarchist poetess...this reminds me of her.
"Am I not as the rest of you,
With a hope to reach, and a dream to live?
With a soul to suffer, a heart to know
The pangs that the thrusts of the heartless give?"
- from "Bastard Born" by Voltairine De Cleyre, 1891
( Some of my very first posts are about her)
Here's the whole poem:
http://134.173.117.152/Anarchist_Archives/bright/cleyre/bastardborn.html
just emailed the link...you will love it or your money back!
Excellent post Mouse!
Isn't the entire blogosphere a bunch of people who are exhibitionists when typing and voyeurs when reading?
It certainly seems like it to me. Maybe we all should be ashamed? ;)
Thanks sling, grish! :) julien!
Allen thanks for the link. Dan, in my opinoin -- we should only be ashamed if we judge.
Citymouse, aren't we judging those who judge? ;)
Ouch. This is getting so deep my head is beginning to hurt. (By the way, when I comment on your blog, I get an e-mail that says that e-mail is undeliverable to you. I wonder if you have a bad e-mail address configured. Do you get e-mail notifications when folks comment?)
Dan,
I dont mean YOU judge... but every once in a while.. there are a few people out there who do... I just tell them not to read my blog!
No email... I'll double check that, thanks for the heads up.
Citymouse, I didn't think you were referring to me, though I can see how you would conclude I did (with the use of the word "ouch").
I was saying "ouch" because I was getting pretty philosophical and asking whether we ourself judge by disliking "judgers".
Does it make sense? For instance, if I say "I really dislike those who judge because they do such and such" I'm really judging them, aren't I? It's like a Catch-22 ... or something. ;)
Sweet, i wish i could write like that =)
denk drueber nach um wen es sich handeln koennnte jannis...
and hey mom, know what? there are some fuckin assholes around...
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