Identity (Poem)

I knew exactly who I was when I was 14 years old 

A wildflower pressed between the pages 

of a hand-me-down Bible, 

ink bleeding from the margins of prayers 

I didn’t yet understand. 

I wore chipped nail polish and certainty like armor, 

believing the world would unfold kindly 

If I just smiled enough, if I just stayed small. 

Fourteen was a hymn half-sung, 

a hallway echo of laughter 

and mascara tears, 

The taste of rebellion hiding under peppermint gum. 

I knew who I was, 

a girl who thought forever meant next summer, 

who thought love was supposed to hurt a little, 

who thought growing up was a straight line. 

Now— I am softer, slower, 

still searching for the edges of that girl I used to be. 

She visits me sometimes in the quiet before sleep, 

And I tell her, I’m still trying to remember you,

And somehow, I think you’d be proud.

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