A poem by Abby Odelson, Writer
I’m not like you.
You are a strand of bright white lights,
Shining without fail,
Without even a small blink.
You perch upon the tops of shelves,
And above doors,
Lighting and brightening the room,
The world.
I am nothing like that.
My lights are every color of the rainbow.
They flicker and dance in the dark,
And sometimes, they go out.
Sometimes they go because of me,
I flick at them and they go dark.
But I’ve learned how to deal with me.
I know what hurts,
And what heals.
But then you,
Your shining, perfect lights,
Flick mine out one by one.
You’re guided by what you call ‘what’s right’,
Backed by ‘what’s normal’Â
And defended by a society that looks down on those who aren’t like them.
If I were like you,
If I had bright, white lights
And could keep my lights on by myself,
Maybe you wouldn’t touch my lights.
Maybe you’d accept me for who I am,
And who I was born as.
I did not choose the colors of my lights,
And it’s not my fault I can’t keep them alight sometimes.
You reminding me,
And chastising me,
Doesn’t help.
Why can’t you,
As the lights who are bright and undimmed,
Stop trying to drown my lights out,
And instead help me shine brighter?
Why do you have to blind me,
When I already can’t see clearly?
Why can’t you accept that I’m not like you?
Because I’m never going to change.
I might not be like you,
But that doesn’t mean I’m worth nothing.