I wrote a poem when I was going through some of the worst parts of leaving the mormon Church a decade ago. I felt like I was split in two from the trauma, and I’ve been feeling that way again, so I pulled it out.
I lost me again
This has happened before
I wasn’t paying attention as I left
And I felt a soft, urgent caress against my thighs
All I saw was the curve of my escaping form
I followed closely, dogging my heals
Attracting and enticing me back
With promises of security, safety, comfort
This time, I wasn’t fast enough
I never knew
the powerful primal pull of freedom could
tempt me
effectively
I spent so much time trying to
train me
teach me
show me
Appropriate outlets for the
wild that ran through–
I’d even
leash me
and
take me
out–
The reaction and attention of
others would always
please me
Some people
approach me
eagerly
leaning down to lose
their hands in the long, rough fur–
Some irrationally
hate me
fear me
avoid me
Obviously anxious about the
untamable, unadulterated, unconstrained
Maybe they’ve had bad experiences with the leash
like me
Most people
ignore me
These days it’s not so unusual
Almost everyone has something
like me
I wander, looking for me
I question others, but no one has seen me
I don’t want to go home without me
I don’t think I’m coming back