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About Me — Ronald C. Flores-Gunkle
But I’m not sure which me is me
Isn’t everyone the same?
The young, the old,
The bought and sold,
The shy and bold?At night, all cats are black,
The Spanish say,
But each of us holds back
Our honest thoughts by day.Is it a game we play?
Do we know what words to say
To be unique?
Is it unique to be unique?Are flowers all the same?
Does every blossom have a name?
By night or day, it’s difficult to see
Which me is me.
I wrote this “meditation in verse” in August of 2016 when I was still relatively new as a writer on Medium. I was not new as a writer — or at life. At the time I was 76 years old; I am now 84. “Which me is me” appeared in New North, a publication that is no longer active.
But I am still active. I remember as a child in Pennsylvania telling my parents, “I want to be a poet, or a singer, or an actor when I grow up,” to their great horror. “What’s wrong with you,” was their rebuke. They despaired of my ever being “normal.”
Our family members held “real” jobs or owned small businesses, they were “down to earth.” They were certainly not “artists.” I learned years later they even plotted with my grandmother for me to take over her store when she retired. They were certain I would never be able to make…