I pulled the curtains open
To the side;
Adjusted the window blinds
To summon the air
And the light’s entry
From the outside.
The panes, I opened it, too
Pushing them to a smooth slide.
I turned the door knob, unlocked.
Pushed the screen door open,
The brass gate, I opened it, too
Breaking the barriers
I once used to sugar-coat my fears.
‘Til there’s nothing left
That would block your view
Of me, standing naked.
Repentant and accepting.
The world could kill me with assaults,
But I would not regret dying
For not wearing anymore
The thick armor of pretense.
There was once a voice
Succinct and free, but muted
By the noises
Of too many influences
Trying to run a life that I should maneuver ~
Voices telling me to do this, and that.
I made too many mistakes
From reckless strokes in the past.
I am a celebration of imperfections.
Countless missed lines and dots
Marked my early life’s drawing pads.
I picked wrong crayon hues
For my early life’s coloring book.
Misspelled words on my journals;
And mispronounced statements.
But more than that, they were not really my thoughts,
For I was just a parrot speaking words
I was taught to say.
In many years, I struggled
To break free from these chains
As a non-conformist.
Piece by piece, I pared each chain
To unravel the voice over-shadowed
By the loud tumult outside me,
Hearing him in stillness.
Finding him in state of calm.
The feigned colors that for a time
Concealed my real form,
And gave me a sense of safety
Are now becoming translucent
Revealing the original hues
Of my true figure beneath.
This is me
I didn’t recognized ~
A waif even to myself ~
For a while,
To your view
Self-Portrait of The Artist Jeques At Work