Some things we don't remember writing — but we remember the feeling that made us pick up the pen.
I found this poem in an old notebook the other day, tucked between grocery lists and unfinished letters. It stopped me. Not because I remembered the words — I didn’t — but because I remembered the pain.
That season of my life felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, trying to decide who I needed to become to survive.
Soft enough to be loved.
Strong enough to be left alone.
Good enough to be wanted.
This poem is about shedding those expectations.
It’s about growing into a self that doesn’t need to fit neatly into a single shape to feel worthy of taking up space.
The Poem Itself
I am not the body you see,
nor the shadow it casts.
Beneath the skin,
the chrysalis splits—
but what emerges
is neither butterfly
nor beast.
Just a girl learning to live
without the need
to be one or the other.
Reflection/Analysis
When I found this poem again, I felt like I was standing face-to-face with an old version of myself — one who didn’t have the language yet, but knew something was wrong.
The girl who wrote this was tired.
Tired of shrinking and stretching and splitting herself into palatable pieces.
The image of the chrysalis matters. We’re taught that healing should look like a perfect transformation — messy beginnings leading to polished endings. That we should come out of it all beautiful, better, ready.
But what if we don’t emerge polished?
What if the real transformation is not in becoming something new, but in letting go of the need to become anything at all?
This poem is about releasing the pressure to be one thing or the other. It's about claiming space in the middle of transformation—where most of us actually live.
It's about learning that being human is enough.
Write It Out
What roles or expectations were placed on you growing up — and how are you learning to shed them now?
If you'd like to share, drop it in the comments or reply to this post. I'd love to read your reflections. 💕
Thank you for reading, if you want to read another poem? Try this one:
Standing in the Rain
This week was hard. Most days, I barely made it out of bed. Then came the news I wasn’t ready for—my endometriosis has spread to my spinal nerve endings, and my connective tissue disease is deteriorating a couple of my spinal discs. I broke down. The weight of it all pressed against me—the relentless pain of endome…
You can support my work by:
Ordering my poetry books through Amazon
Sharing Poetic Sunday posts and liking the ones that connect with you
Checking out my print shop for unique pieces
Thank you for your support!
Debra 💛
This is so tender, Debra. And such an important reminder.
I love coming back to old work and seeing how far I've journeyed, a bit like an artistic time capsule. Today's theme must be about releasing and letting go because I keep running into that, an important synchronicity that I need to pay attention to. I want to keep letting go of the need for external validation. It is a fruitless quest on a hamster wheel.