A Poem: I am not human, I am human

Perpetua, saint who held the knife to her throat

I felt like a normal human being for once

like normal women

wanting children

wanting to live

wanting to experience life, love

I realized that is not possible

I cannot experience life

I was made of glass, constantly changing color, shape, and temperature; a shapeshifter, devoid of identity

melting and remolding through different light, prisms, and reflections

reflecting souls, minds, and hearts that start pumping through the mirror of me

I’m just a mirror, a reflection of others

I do not exist

I am not a human being

—

I am a human being

I am made of flesh, bone, and blood

I am like you, we are from the same source

The God of Love who created us in His image

Please allow me to be myself

The perfectly imperfect human being

With needs, flaws, and ego

A self-love is self-ish and self-less at the same time

Because I am human

Being human is amazing and terrible

It means we are full of light and darkness

We are both and equal

Let me participate in life

Let me live

Tell me that my life is worthy to take up space

That it is not special but it is so valuable

Tell me I am deserving of love

And that my love, although ugly, is precious too

And that my life, though short and insignificant, is beautiful too

Tell me…

A cry of a perpetua dying, shining