Being Here and Being Me

By Tommy Long

Being Here and Being Me

By fourth-year Zoey Stephens

I am thirteen dreaming of who I want to be

“Don’t look at me, I don’t want to be seen” 

Writing reasons to live in a spiral ring notebook 

My existence sealed in blood drops and candle wax 

To show that I was here 

And before, I am three, running naked, barefoot

Chasing fireflies with blood dried on my scabbed little knee

Using shale rock as sidewalk chalk, dancing in the rain

I cover my ears when voices raise

And I always have something to say

But I am nineteen and I don’t want to be

I never even thought I would make it this far

I wish I was free like I was when I was three

“I don’t want to be here”

I don’t know how I can get back to being me

I can’t breathe, I want to breathe, I want to be,       be,            be

And then I am at autumn’s end of twenty one

Running around the homestead with no pants on

Searching for tin cups and sticks to whittle

Leaving a trail of blood behind me 

To show that I was here

That I am here

My body is full of blood and breath

My burden, my blessing of life

I am turning twenty two and I am free

“I know who I am”

I am here, and I am who I want to be