I Become Them

When I was little
the heroines I’d watch
became a part of me. 
They oozed right into me and swelled 
until I burst with every ounce 
of them instead of me,
and I, upon the roof,
would prance, or sing, or dance,
as they.

I was Eliza Doolittle,
and I was also Hailey Mills!
And I rode across the fields
on a painted horse
with the wind in my hair,
or danced upon the hills
to sounds of music. 

I became them. 

When I grew a little older, 
and books became my love,
my heart would beat in time
to printed words.
I lived in many distant places
and smiled with many coloured eyes
as one by one I felt each word I read 
until they filled my soul
and I was the lady in the book!

I was the fairest Elven princess
in all of Middle Earth,
or I nursed both man and love 
in tulip fields. 
I felt each grain of sand 
beneath their feet
and every heartbeat rise and fall 
as they captured me. 

And I became them all!

Now that I am older,
I understand that I am me.
I’m not the heroine of silver screen
or from the pages of a book;
I don’t become another person
every time my heart is touched,
— although they still try!

And so now, when others grip me,
with their lives both large or small,
when they touch that part within me
that wells up deep inside,
until they ooze through every vein
— that’s when I write.

And through my poetry
I become them 
and let them live again.



march 2005
Janet Reid




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