My Friends Poem by Ann Mckeeman

they who have seen me
disheveled, waking hastily to attend to something pressing
raw, roots showing, nails removed because I am preparing for surgery
made up, perfumed, bejeweled and dressed in stylish clothes
depressed, suicidal, eyes red and puffed, at the lowest possible step
in childhood, naive, trusting confused often but open and loving
in the depths of pain, bold, strong ready covered with the stench of abuse
they who have seen me

do not call me names... for they understand
from where i have come
and where I am headed.

they say what they need to
for they know I love them and that in the end
it will be ok...if it is not ok
it is not the end

they who have seen me
do not
call me
fat
ugly
they do not mistreat me
with rude coarse tongues
or callous hearts

they who have seen me
do not seek to draw me into harms way
or to, with deliberation
place me in the midst of the eye of the storm

but rather

as I stand amid the swirling tides

they call out
offer their light
their hands
their words
their hearts

I lack subtlety
I lack guile
I do not lack for friends who have love to offer

They who see me
know me
and I them