I don't fit
I never have
I remember looking
at my parents
through youthful
eyes
and thinking
who are these strange
people
that I love so dearly
but don't quite belong
with
I can't seem to help
looking at almost everyone
that way
Gypsy Wind
is my birth given handle
So far that is what my life
has been
whether the slightest
breeze
or hurricane gale
It seems I have
always
been pushed
by this invisible force
an innate
determination
purpose pulling on me
an external search
for something missing
a key to a lock
or the other half of my
locket
There are moments
when I longingly
stare
at cookie cutters
Yearning to lay down in one
be surrounded by the
safe
complete walls
of tinseled exactness
I tried to build a
gingerbread house
with all the appropriate
decorations
but the obsession
with perfection
made the house crack and
crumble
and to be honest
I don't really care for
frosting
I just wanted a cookie
But I have learned
to be specific
I need to know what kind
of cookies
I like the best
oatmeal raisin
or chocolate chip
or peanut butter
Placed on a baking
sheet
they spread organically
each one unique
formed by the heat they
rise from
Snacks
that can be wrapped
in plastic
by mamas hands
tucked in the pocket of my
soul
so I won't be hungry
When I am out on my journey
and the wind starts to blow
leaning me this way
and that
my feet will be rooted
because I am full
stuffed like
thanksgiving
anchored
by a
bottomless cookie jar
that I can reach into
whenever I need to
whenever I feel lost
Every place I don't belong
Every cookie cutter that
doesn't fit
Every pair of eyes that
can't see me
Every pair of ears that can't hear me
Every heart that can't let
me in
I will reach within
Anyway
find my favorite cookie
at that moment
break it down the middle
Half for you
and half for me
Because even if
there is not a place
in this world
that I belong
I will always know
and
I will always show you
what home tastes like
on the inside
of me
on the inside
of me