un|seen
A poem for all those feeling less than in this season of awards & celebrations. It can be a hard time of year for those who, for whatever reason, don't live up to the worlds expectations of success.
Cancer is a limitation. It has an obnoxious uncertainty about it. It doesn’t care what your body wants to do. Your heart. Your spirit. Left unchecked, it willingly strangles creativity and freedom and binds you to the burden of feeling “less than”.
Less than whole. Less than capable. Less than fit for purpose. Definitely less productive. Less than worthy.
It’s a diminishing and uncomfortable harassment that tries to inch its way into my conscious most days. I’ve been wrestling with this intruder for a number of years now, since a debilitating back injury and more recently chronic cancer. I often have to dig deep to find the “more than.”
More than cancer. More than a bad back. More than a diagnosis. More than my limitations. More than enough.
This week, I’m heading to, not one, but two school assemblies. My children are receiving awards for work well done. But these days, my instinct rebels against this systematic glorification of achievement. Because sometimes we just don’t measure up. Sometimes, we just can’t. And then what?
There are times in our lives where we crash head first into an internal or external limitation. Suddenly, we find we can no longer function and sustain that award and recognition-seeking drive the fuels our society. A drive we are conditioned to from such a young age. But when all we can do is pull over and pray, does that make us less than? Does that disqualify our worth?
In all reality, there’s a lot of precious young ones, who, in those assemblies, have to sit and wait through hours of medals, trophies and certificates, knowing their name will never make the list in the first place.
What their hearts, our hearts, need to hear, always, despite our less than moments, days or years, is that we are loved. By Someone. That we are precious. We are seen. Always.
A few years ago, I sat and watched one of my children suffer the torment of being unseen, unnoticed, undone…
And so I composed this poem for all those who, in this season, are feeling less than and need to be wholly seen by someone…
un|seen
Separated by row on row of young ones
All I can see is the stiff straight nape of your neck
Upright; uptight maybe?
I am.
Listening to name after name called up to shine
All I can feel is your hope slowly leaking
Recognition for all, but you
I’m breaking.
Watching your crumbling frame sink down and down
All I can do is be ready to hold you
With every fiber of my being
I’m here.
Melting into my arms, you cry and cry
All my love protectively encircles around you
Just breathe, as words falter and fail
I…
Looking deeply, so deeply into your soulful eyes
All I want is for you to know
Precious one, that you are enough
I see you.
