THE SOUL OF METhere seems no pleasing you, Mother.
All I do is wrong.
Will we ever see eye-to-eye?
Will we ever get along?You say I laugh too loud in public.
and sit Indian-style on my chair.
I’m not too fond of make-up.
I do nothing with my hair.So many attempts to change me
have been fruitless and in vain.
And still you keep on trying:
What of this do you stand to gain?
You do not understand me.
But then, when have you really tried
to take time from your routine
to listen to my side?
It may not make any sense to you.
You’ll probably never see
why the particular things I love
happen to inspire me.
In my heart of stormy weather,
music brings the perfect day.
There’s just something about its magic
that drives my loneliness away.
Same goes for putting words together
in any form or style.
But you’ve never noticed the improvement
though I’ve done it for a while.
All the things that I find appealing
are not passing phases, but steadfast.
You’ve referred to them as obsessions
and inquired how long they’d last.
I came to accept your perception
and tried to see what you saw.
After all, aren’t mothers always right?
Isn’t there some law?
But then people started to contradict
what you had assessed of me.
At first, I wouldn’t listen.
I had to disagree.
I still deny being a poet:
A title too noteworthy for my name.
My scribbled thoughts are hardly works
deserving of acclaim.
My random acts have been labeled
to be generous and kind,
though I do nothing extraordinary
with each circumstance I find.
You’ll never believe it, Mother.
They say I’m beautiful too;
revealed to me while I was wearing
jeans, t-shirt and tennis shoes.
I do not understand it.
I’m with them as I am with you.
Could so many stand and lie blatantly?
Or are they telling me the truth?
Forgive me if it is arrogant
that I take their view instead.
By sheer number, there has to be
some accuracy in what they’ve said.
Don’t worry, I won’t try to alter
the image of me you own.
Nor do I expect you to care to see
the side you’ve never known
I’ve finally learned to love myself.
It was far from an easy task.
And after all these years, I'll admit
that I’ve been meaning to ask:
Am I so unattractive to you
because of my idiosyncrasies?
Will you ever see beyond the tomboy
and love the soul of me?
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