Be Patient If You Can

~ Be Patient If You Can ~

Nobody knows the loneliness in me,
nobody knows me enough to see.
The tears I cry from day to day,
they silently fall and fade away.

My heart it aches so deep and hard,
a feeling I long so much to discard.
I reach out in friendship to make a connection,
only to feel so much more a rejection.

A rejection that is known by me alone,
upholding my fears to others unknown.
My fear is of appearing foolish for you to see,
a great nagging fear that wont let me be.

I need to act proper, I need to act right,
if I say or do the wrong thing, its my desire take flight.
I want you to see me, to know who I am,
its so scary for me though, please be patient if you can.

Deep within this soul, this spirit of mine,
is a complex person one word can’t define.
I can be witty and funny, caring and sincere,
yet so overwhelming has been validation of my fear.

The part you don’t see is how flamboyant I can be,
I keep it well hidden, so it can’t make a fool of me.
Sometimes that part appears so boisterous and loud,
then I remember it shouldn’t, I need to act more proud.

On stage I used to let that part take over and run,
I certainly can’t deny that wonderful feeling of fun.
But once I stepped down, back off the stage,
I closed that book on every page.

It saddens me to have this great nagging fear,
a need for all flamboyance to disappear.
I know deep within God created this part,
from the very beginning, the first beat of my heart.

I listened too much to what others had to say,
instead of accepting it was God who created me this way.
He created me just for His purpose alone,
yet the me that I am, I feel the need to disown.

So if I seem a little uptight to you,
it may be that I feel foolish about the things I say and do.
I’ve tried all my life to be the me who I am,
its so scary for me though, please be patient if you can.

Written by Rebecca Rawson
Copyright © 2000
Edited 2018

This is about as real as the poetry is going to get for now, it was not the easiest poem to post so openly with my name attached to it. But, no one can say it isn’t honest.

The saddest thing for me as I share this poem so openly, now with far more life experience and a greater depth of empathy…. The sentiment conveyed in this poem is far from being a sentiment that only I have experienced.

I think deep down the majority of us experience this sentiment at least once in our lives if not many times over, some more so than others, a small number barely at all.

It’s also funny how various moments of life with no connection whatsoever, in time nor event, seem to find a way to gel together as if they were connected all along.

Such is the case with this photo and this poem, two completely different times during my life, far from connected…. Yet, when I think of one I think of the other I think of the other.

The most delicate of threads tying them together through sentiment.

The photo taken without my knowledge during Christmas of 1993, capturing a moment of silent introspection amongst the festivities of Christmas Day. A moment of having let my mask slip, the reality of my decision to end my first marriage a number of weeks earlier weighing heavily on me.

A marriage that I had brought to a conclusion during the celebrations of my 21st birthday in an effort to recover what remnants of dignity I had left and all those parts of myself that I had felt the need to disown, allowing those parts of myself to disappear throughout that marriage.

Almost seven years later this was the first poem that I allowed myself to pour my emotions into so honestly as I had begun to disown myself once again, allowing all that had begun to heal, revive and strengthen to disappear.

The first two lines of this poem flowing through my mind as I sat amongst the guests at Daniel’s mother’s 50th birthday party. It was a time in my life that no one could see the person I once was had begun to fade away completely due to others silently imposing their will upon me behind closed doors.

The loneliness I felt during that party was immense, despite the number of guests, many I knew very well. Quietly excusing myself from the event early I took my two youngest sons home and settled them to bed.

I then took out a piece of paper and began to write, the words flowing through my hand as easily as the tears that fell upon the page as I wrote.

This poem, a reoccurring sentiment during numerous chapters of my life so far.

The people I was enmeshed with during those chapters entwined with the ghosts from various chapters of the past, strengthening the sentiment that I need to disown all those gifts and traits within myself not seen as proper or right.

The older I get the more aware I become of just how many people really do experience the need to disown who they are, all the while experiencing the true depth of unseen loneliness, even amongst the crowd.