Light Filters In: Poems

by Caroline Kaufman

I’ve spent so much time trying to become who I should be that I lost myself along the way.

it’s survival of the fittest, not everyone will thrive. we’re pushed so far that we go against the instinct to survive.

you held my wrists, propped me up, and moved me on your stage; all my life has been a script and you wrote every page. you set a backdrop, painted smiles, hid what was within; come one, come all, and see her now: the doll in human skin!

experiment: wait and see how much they can take of me before they leave.

somehow, you got into my brain when you called me perfect, but I couldn’t believe it all the beautiful things you saw were never there; for I was filled with sadness and pain I was worthless. I no longer thought I meant something. everyone told me I couldn’t. and one day, that was all I believed, even when you told me I could. I was a failure. I couldn’t believe when you said I was special. I told you not to. but, you kept trying even though I was a mess. run away. I can’t believe you didn’t the day you first met me (a year later, I read it backward)

life is learning to read the messy handwriting of the earth when school only showed you clear-cut letters.

the problem was not asking him to complete me. the problem was believing I was incomplete to begin with.

I’ve always been intrigued by hands. how the same mesh of bone and blood and nail that caresses a face cooks a meal holds a child can also form a fist grip a neck pull a trigger. we all have hands. we all have the potential to protect and create and love. we all have hands. we all have the potential to hurt and steal and kill. we all have hands. but what we use them for is up to us.

ninety-nine percent of every atom in your body is empty space. ninety-nine percent of this page is blank. our existence (our poetry) (our universe) relies on nonexistence.

I’m made of four dimensions—space and time, heart and soul I am my own universe; infinite and whole my skin is not a boundary, I’m too much to be contained more than person, more than words, I cannot be explained my thoughts fill up the room as they seep through all my pores they’ll leak out all the windows; they’ll break down all the doors so don’t you dare define me, I am made up of unknowns you cannot hold me back, I am not caged in by my bones

I am still learning to let myself grow. I am still learning that it is not selfish to let myself become the person I am meant to be.

if you think you are drowning, just remember: you float in water.

don’t ask for respect; demand it. don’t look for opportunity; grab it. don’t add to the world; change it.

my story is not complete without pieces from the people who kept it going.

sometimes unlearning is so much more important than learning.