Monday, December 15, 2014

Who Are We?

This poem was inspired by a fellow poetic enthusiast, Kenia Cris, from the blog "An exercise on existing." She wrote a beautiful poem about how our culture seems to have developed a sense of labeling other human beings with certain stereotypes, and how it isn't right for us to be pinning this labels on people. In fact, I couldn't have agreed with her more on this subject. We do live in a culture that is accepting this kind of behavior, when we shouldn't be. So here is a very raw poem that I had just written in response to Kenia's poem, "No immutable observation is true." 

"Be Yourself" by David Hudson

What is invisible to most
Only the heart can see
For when you cover both petals
You can see only darkness.
There is a light in this though.
A light that will shine through,
a light that will reveal
happiness, strength, loyalty,
So many of the things that WE
Take for granted.

Sometimes we let the rain wash it away:
the chalk outlines of our bodies,
the picture perfect scene
in which we can soar in the fake
intolerable presence of our being.
But this isn't who we are.
Shadows do not define who we are,
because we are what we make:
something beautiful
something purer than rain.

If only we took a breath
And in that breath we drew
A make believe heart that captured
Everything, everything that we are.
Would it be then that we would be seen
As a human being?
Nay, for we are what we make.
When we can open the covers
and let out naked bodies shine
this is when we find who we are.

No regrets, but only hopes
No fancy clothes, but personal drag
No pointing fingers, or taking names
For in the middle of the day
We are here to say,
“This is who I am,
“And this is who I will be.”

Question: "Are you a copy or an original?"


  1. Hi, this is me again Kenn. :)

    As previously said in my e-mail, I'm really glad you felt inspired to write something on the topic of my poem.

    When I wrote it last night, I couldn't sleep because I was mad at a person who doesn't let me close or in for he doubts my nature. I have never given him reasons to do so and that was the spark behind the poem. I'd choke and die if I didn't say anything, because I'm cool and all but still I'm a woman! :P

    I wrote something a while ago I believe honestly:

    The truth about human beings lies on their pillows.

    People instinctively hide it from the one another, for the fear of hatred, humiliation, judgment, mockery. The Internet is a stage, you can be whoever you feel like, you can come and chat to me for a year pretending to be someone and then vanish in the air one day leaving no traces.

    Have you seen this Sci-Fi movie called "Surrogates" (it did look quite silly for many people but I am a Sci-Fi geek, and in addition to that, I always watch movies trying to see beyond the silly crap they are selling to the masses.)

    In Surrogates, people own unflawed robotic versions of themselves, being fit and good looking remotely controlled machines that ultimately assume their life roles, enabling them to experience life vicariously from the comfort and safety of their own homes.

    How far are we from that, hiding behind our computer screens? How many masks do we put on and off daily? We're children, parents, professionals, husbands and wives, friends.

    But when a man goes to bed at night after either a hard or a nice day, from the moment he lies his head on his pillow to the moment he actually falls asleep, while thinking of the recently finished day and the day to come, in that very interval, the man is the real man. And it's very intimate. No one can participate this interval.

    I try and keep true to myself and my path, and to keep myself see-through - I guess when a person is sure of the other's heart, there's a silent agreement between them they are not to hurt each other. Silly? Probably, but this is who I am.

    It's so difficult to read people, isn't it? Being wrong about the others is a lot easier. We're constantly projecting our "ideal image", the product of everything we want a person to be on what he or she actually is. We keep misinterpreting people's actions and words instead of observing and processing them.

  2. note: I had to divide my comment in two parts because blogger wouldn't let me to publish a comment with more than 4,096 words. I guess they think people can't write that much voluntarily, that anything that long must be spam. ¬¬ )

    Well, you have my answer to your question already: I'm an original, a nobody...

    I'm nobody! Who are you?
    Are you nobody, too?
    Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
    They'd advertise — you know!
    How dreary to be somebody!
    How public like a frog
    To tell one's name the livelong day
    To an admiring bog!
    (Emily Dickinson)

    There is a short story written by João do Rio (and I so wish you could read/speak Portuguese now so I could show you that), it's called "The Stiff-paper-headed Man", it was turned into a play I've attended it several times.

    It tells the story of Antenor, a pure-hearted man who had so many problems for being kind and naive to the point of imagining his head was 'broken'. He then took it to a 'head maintenance' place to be fixed and borrowed a regular stiff-paper one to be used while his was unavailable. The stiff-paper head made him an average man, and he felt so comfortable about cheating, lying and deceiving that he never returned it to the shop. He was not happy being nobody, he wanted to be somebody else and he turned into a somebody. That happens all the time. Because people want to belong.

    I want to belong to, I'm not saying I don't. But I want to belong to someone who happens to be my "nobody-match". Someone I will have a private little world with and a secret language most people will never understand. Someone who won't play games or put on acts, someone who doesn't want to be a somebody because it is so cool to be ourselves.

    I'd better get going before you regret having left me a comment. :P

    Have a great night. xo

    1. I really appreciate you being so open with me about yourself. You seem like a very amazing person by being just who you want to be. Which is what my poem here was all about. There are so many times that I see people try to be someone that they're not, and it is really aggravating. In the end I guess we all are just trying to define who we really are through whatever medium we can get out hands upon. In my case in particular I really reveal myself in my writing. In a way it is a good place to hide, and only those who share a similar feeling will be able to understand it. Sorry this is such a sort response in comparison to yours. Again, I really appreciate you responding and I can't wait to read more of your writings. :)


All comments would be appreciated.