Not.
One day, I began to moan endlessly:
“Not the smartest person in the room.
Not the strongest, not the wisest.
These are the things I’m not.
Not the nicest person you've ever met.
Not the wittiest or the shiniest.
Not 6 feet tall,
Not blue-eyed,
And I’m not so handsome
That you would like me at a ball.
Not the life of the party,
Not a lone wolf.
Not an extrovert,
Not quiet or aloof.
Not a coward,
Not violent.
Not athletic or a wimp.
I’m somewhere in between.
Not an expert on traipsing the world
On service trips.
Not a straight-A student.
I’m not the perfect candidate
To give you winning tips.
Not connected, not fulfilled.
Not a failure, yet to succeed.
Not a skier, Not insane,
Not a horse-rider
Galloping in the rain.
Not your perfect dream man,
Not a monster either.
Not always happy,
Not forever sad.
I’m not always angry,
Not just quiet or in withdrawal.
I’m not always an optimist,
Exuberant or in denial
I’m nothing extraordinary.
I’m not the “usual”.
I’m not without flaws,
Not without strengths.
As for family,
I would go to almost any length.
I’m not who I want to be,
Not who I was,
I’m not as busy as a bee
Or a sloth that has only ever worked once.
Not really who I am
Or how I act.
I would be a sham
To claim I’ve never broken a pact.
I’m not a simple man,
Uncomplicated and planned.
I’m not an airplane,
Assured of where to land.
Not an overly-complex being,
Such that you would need
A machine or a search engine.
I’m not a lot of things…”
My fear continues down the list,
My thoughts never free
Of the “you’re-not-enough” mist
It says, “Not, Not…”
“...not me.”
My pride quiet,
Not forever silent,
Finally claims no regret,
Claims I’m perfect
Forgets all the nots.
My heart is in a knot,
Many things I am; I also fall short.
I’m human, I’m stuck
In a pride-fear rot.
As both are fueled by my insecurities,
I realize they are
Just more than some.
I have a lot of “not”s
Yet above all,
I know I’m not
Alone.
©2020 by Ayo Okikiolu.
Context
I think this is one of the rare poems that explains itself. I started the poem at a really sad moment and then it became a spoken-word-like poem (rare for me). As I kept writing, I realized where it was to go. Ultimately, I'm not alone.
