The List
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This poem was published was first published here with some other fabulous writing :)
The List
I make a list of things I need, like bread and milk
Of things to do, like write and cook
Of calendar items, dates, places, times
Projects to finish, items to fix, things to find
I take pleasure in watching each item grow wings
and gently glide off the paper, never to return.
And when every last item has flown the coop
I sigh, I celebrate, and start anew
One day, I timidly outstretched my own wings
and gently flew off the list that had been written for me
With boxes and lines to keep me between,
each item leading one step closer to eternity,
I left the boxes behind as I soared above clouds,
taking in the vastness of expansive sky and space
And I vowed to never follow a list not authored by me
To never be someone else’s box to complete
But, despite my vehement protestations
I unceremoniously landed on “the list.”
A list written by others
A list denied, but widely known
Friends who loved me
Community that once embraced me
Now squeeze me between two faded blue lines
My name hastily scrawled among the names of the unfaithful
The black sheep
The projects
The ones they discuss
The ones they ignore, and yet can’t
I’m one of the lost now and I feel the loss
Reduced to a number to text, an invitation to rejoin the fold
Can we intercept her in the wild?
Send cryptic texts, feign friendship?
Each Sunday they talk about how my wings are taking me
farther and farther away, they fear.
They wonder who forgot to clip my feathers.
Will I become a blurry speck on the horizon soon?
Cast your nets, ladies and gentleman
Approach her with the full armor of God
Let her see your truth
But don’t let her seduce you!
Convince her there’s nothing more she wants
than to return to the earth in its safety and security
Two feet once again stoically pounding the covenant path
and not gently floating behind beating wings of freedom
And everyone thinks they know why I’ve taken flight
And they have the answers to my questions
They have reasons why my feelings are wrong
They have reasons why I shouldn’t be on the list
But I am on the list, it’s my scarlet letter
And I don’t need to wear it on my lapel
Because my leaders carry the list in their front pocket
And they pass it around so everyone can see
It’s written on scrolls the angels keep
Rolled records of all the righteous and unrighteous
And the angels know I’ve been naughty
And Santa and God just want me to be nice
But sometimes I want to scream
Take me off your list! I’m not a checkbox!
I won’t be the one who makes your list get shorter,
your ego bigger, your conscience relieved by my conformity
If my name disappears from your list
I return to invisibility
A woman with clipped wings and vocal cords.
Present in body, but mind in flight.
And so, I remain on that infamous list.
Wedged between meetings, and trivial errands
lies my name with a note:
Send a text to this sister and then please report.
I feel every bit of these words!