After many intervening years, I pretend
that stings of isolation from my early days
didn’t mark me,
didn’t set my mind on long and searching struggles,
didn’t define, in any way, my sense of self

Not to say there is no sense
in which that pretense counts as true,
for did I not work hard
to overcome the stigma?
Did I not form bonds that proved me
worthy of connection?
And did I not carry these – what I had gained –
back as proof? And wasn’t I gratified
to find myself graciously received?

Yes, and …
Yes, but …
Some part of me cries out for truth.
Some part of me wants to be reckoned with

I may have overcome the sense of not deserving,
along with social gaps that put me
in the line of shunning,
but this is not a smooth sea.
I have worked hard for this, my innocence.
I have worked hard for yours, as well.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 11, 2023