Unaccompanied Anthem

We live as we dream ... alone.
—Joseph Conrad, “Heart of Darkness”

I was not born to this

wariness. I came of age

as my kind do—armed with ache

and swathed in rectitude,

a rough carving

sluiced under a torrent

of disregard. Still, I did not

suffer unduly. Most often

I bore witness: I listened,

then took it back into a solitude

neither light nor rain

could reach. There I would sit

and rock myself warm.

I tell you this long past

the learning of it. I ate quickly,

dreamt little, read like a fiend—

not quite a shadow,

more than a smudge;

you begrudged me

even these tremulous

pleasures. I came to you

grinning with grief,

but if called upon

would not pause to lift up a fist—

the only one in the room

who raises her hand

when no one else speaks,

though the answer is obvious.

Source: Poetry (April 2023)