BY RAYELLEN KIRSHBACH

I don’t want to be inexplicable

or unfathomable or even esoteric.

I want to be grace.

What-you-see-is-what-you-get,

fully stitched in to my own soul.

Grace.

I want people to get such a sense of me

that after our first brief meeting,

they will want to remember me to others

with faint admiration on their breath.

Not that I want to be admired

but I want to know what it is like, to meet someone

who knows what it is like, to meet someone

who is so authentic.

And they don’t even have to like me

or agree with me, but they will be

absolutely certain that I’m not someone else

when I step into the other room.

Then this will make them so inclined to collect me, keep me,

set a special dust-free place on the mantle for me,

between Grandma’s antique clock and the picture of the dog

and that funny piece of driftwood

they found that time at the beach.

Yes, that will be nice.

Then I can just be me.

And I won’t have to be anyone’s lover,

or the housemate who takes out the trash,

or even the manager at work everyone respects.

I can just be me

and all on my own like that.

I will never be alone.

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