See Me

by jackie ludke

I’m here, do you see me?

a friend of the curb
sleeping in vomit and piss
all choices are gone and
being is digested by despair.
disgusting and wretched
believe me that’s me.

the mother of three
at the end of her rope
who yells and screams
and pushes and slaps
and despises her own reflection.
look again, that’s me too.

alone at the bar
perched deliberately and just right
with cleavage and legs
that cry out for tonight.
longing to spread her legs
and fill her needs.
meet me.

the man devoured by work and greed
with an 8 o’clock drink in his hand
and a family cowering in the corner
looking at me.

innocence alone, hungry and hurt
desperate for a morsel of hope.
those eyes are mine.

the womb of guilt
shrouded by fear and self doubt
birthless breath
shameful birth
morality aside
reality abides
i’m more than the choices I’ve made
do you see me or the history I hide?

here weakness is death
and numbers are names
what’s the worth of a soul
in a merciless pit?
do you see scars of vengeance
or marks of deliverance
or the one who once was
and might have been?
you’re not allowed in here,
but do you see me?

the anger and hate that wells up unrestrained
the one who hurts first to avoid the pain
the weapons of choice are many to choose
the blood that spills is mine too.

I’m here do you see me?
loving these means loving me.