Poem: Shall I Stand?

Upcycler #6, 2011

Shall I stand

On my feet

Erect and perpendicular, an animated sculpture exposed to the wind and

The desecration of public scorn?

Shall I stand?

Shall I, stalk-like, yearn for the sky —

Or at least the ceiling, the plastered governor that dictates the limit

Of our aspirations?

Shall I?

Or — and this would be much easier, the path of least resistance as Dad would say

Assuredly, and with evident pride in having learned and known and lived an idea —

Or shall I sit

Upon my thighs

Folded inward like a mushy origami,

Protected in the middle from inquiring eyes and sneering judgment

Born of otherness?

Shall I sit?

Shall I play defense, warding off imagined attacks, stopping mean bombs

With my clothes?

Dad reminded us — among other things — that the best defense is a good offense.

And whether we understood (or not), at the time we believed him.

And we were thankful that he would stand for us.

I think I shall stand.

And should I teeter

Or fall from grace

He will catch me.