Please stop trying to save me
What if I am not wrong, just different?
What if I do not need changing, fixing,
Healing, rescuing, improving, sorting out,
In just the way that spiderwebs and flower petals
Do not need to be other than they are.
I might be fragile, but it is a quality valued in glassware
I may be sensitive down to my nerve endings
Like the fine tips of roots and shoots
Or a wolf’s sense of smell.
I have been wounded, my body a fracked landscape
But you don’t mend that by demanding
I learn to better tolerate being fracked.
You don’t make me more well if you tell me
I am not good enough right now, if you
Have to tinker with me, recreate me in the way
You think I should be, over-writing the truth of me
With some story that suits you better.
Some way of being in the world that may
Tidy me into other people’s convenience, but makes me
Less myself, smaller than before so that
The next person can come along to see the damage
And decide what should be cut off now
In order to save me from myself.
What if I would never have been damaged at all
Without the people who wanted to repair me
In the manner of their choosing?
What if all I ever needed was kindness
And the space to live out my own difference?