Here I Am

I see you from behind my ruined face

And know you cannot see me.

Only my mother and father and whoever

Was alive when I was born have seen

The face I started molding from the first

Kiss of life. My youth alive inside my head

Peers out, a child playing

Hide and seek, anticipating

That delicious moment of being found.

Or unable to wait, joyfully leaps out

To shout “Here I am!”

Now I use my poems and stories

Not to fling myself upon you

But as clues for you to go look more deeply,

Then finally cry, “Ah, there you are!”

So I can be, in mixed delight and dread

Flushed from my hiding place

To play the game again.

Enid Levinger Powell


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