A Poem for Nerds: National Poetry Month

This poem is for those who feel like they have never fit in. It's for those who feel misunderstood, like a square peg. Up until I was thirty years old, I was calling my Mother, sometimes in tears, to ask her why I didn't fit in anywhere. I felt clumsy, awkward, and sometimes alone.

After my Mom passed away I mourned for the one who reminded me that I was a precocious child and as an adult I was peculiar, that is singular and special.  I was never meant to fit in...

Now that I realize where my place is in (or out) of this world, I have peace. Finding this poem was my consolation and my confirmation:

"Be Nobody's Darling" by Alice Walker

“Be nobody's darling;
Be an outcast.
Take the contradictions
Of your life
And wrap around
You like a shawl,
To parry stones
To keep you warm.

Watch the people succumb
To madness
With ample cheer;
Let them look askance at you
And you askance reply.

Be an outcast;
Be pleased to walk alone
(Uncool)
Or line the crowded
River beds
With other impetuous
Fools.

Make a merry gathering
On the bank
Where thousands perished
For brave hurt words
They said.

Be nobody's darling;
Be an outcast.
Qualified to live
Among your dead.”

In Honor of National Poetry Month...

I love this poem because it deconstructs the romantic idea of the wildly inspired artist. Through Mullen's stream of consciousness, I've become more conscious of my own self-defeating habits and thoughts. I hope you all enjoy this poem as much as I do and get inspired to power through your day tomorrow!

"All She Wrote" by Harryette Mullen

Harryette Mullen (b.1953) photo byJudy Natal 

Forgive me, I’m no good at this. I can’t write back. I never read your letter. I can’t say I got your note. I haven’t had the strength to open the envelope. The mail stacks up by the door. Your hand’s illegible. Your postcards were defaced. Wash your wet hair? Any document you meant to send has yet to reach me. The untied parcel service never delivered. I regret to say I’m unable to reply to your unexpressed desires. I didn’t get the book you sent. By the way, my computer was stolen. Now I’m unable to process words. I suffer from aphasia. I’ve just returned from Kenya and Korea. Didn’t you get a card from me yet? What can I tell you? I forgot what I was going to say. I still can’t find a pen that works and then I broke my pencil. You know how scarce paper is these days. I admit I haven’t been recycling. I never have time to read the Times. I’m out of shopping bags to put the old news in. I didn’t get to the market. I meant to clip the coupons. I haven’t read the mail yet. I can’t get out the door to work, so I called in sick. I went to bed with writer’s cramp. If I couldn’t get back to writing, I thought I’d catch up on my reading. Then Oprah came on with a fabulous author plugging her best selling book.

Retrieved from: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15458

Originally published in Santa Monica Review, fall 1997 ©1997 Harryette Mullen