Blood red setting sun, bright light transfusing, melting and bleeding into
the silvering mists as they writhe and struggle low to the soggy, wet and
waterlogged ground, staying close to the earth, as if afraid to fly. Afraid
to fly like their cousins high in the sky, those billowing masses of white,
those soaring clouds. A dream like image, a dream sent name. A mistake, a
miracle. Heaven sent or hells sweet wrath. Midst of thunderstorms, the calm
of the middle of the day. A name, a dream, a child. What could be my name,
what would be my name matters not. What is my name? It really doesn’t
matter, its just one of the many things that I am called, one of the many
things that make me who I am. But if that is true, then it does matter;
every piece has to be there to make a puzzle complete. My name, Gaelen,
different. Role call, everyone is called, people turn to look and stare as a
young girl raises her hand when that name is called. A flush rises on my
cheeks, the center of attention. The teacher pronounces it wrong over and
over, corrections or no. Cruel jokes, horrid nicknames, late night tears.
Why did my parents do this to me? A realization, a difference from the
normal, the jokes are nothing if not mere folly of the fools who care to
crack them, hiding there own pain by causing it in others. An acceptance,
it’s not so bad when I rise above. Standing out of the crowd, who needs to
fit in when you can soar above…or sink below? Sink below, down below the
level of the teasers and the hurting jokers. Sink below the loneliest of
lonely people; sink down so low you feel high. Fall into a groove of
silence, and a net of lies. Become someone who fills this gap, this space
for amazing when all I am is average. I’m afraid, afraid of myself, afraid
to soar above where I’ve never been before, afraid to let go of the soil I
hold so dear. So I stay, my feet planted in the ground, my head nowhere near
the clouds. I twist my words and change my looks, I fix my hair and read
different books, but nothing can change what I truly am, just a lowly land
loving mist, who’s to afraid to fly so will never leave the ground. Dream or
nightmare, heaven sent or hells sweet wrath, I am who I am, nothing can
change that.
 
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