I Am Enough-
I am not big enough
I am too fat
I am too scared
Too scarred
There are so many reasons we give ourselves
For why we are not beautiful
I am not smart enough
My breasts are too small
My butt is too big
I am not pretty enough
So many excuses for why we don’t deserve to be loved
I am too short
I am too old
Too young
I am not manly enough
We are these magnificent beings capable of so much
Yet
“I am not enough”
Might as well be our ring tone
The signature at the bottom of an email
I am too skinny
Too broke
Too dumb
We are asking the wrong questions
Or perhaps asking the right questions- in the wrong way
Nelson Mandela reminds us
“Who Am I not to be great”
Who am I not to see beautiful in every mirror that passes me
Turn. My. Swag. On!
It is a saunter
We walk with a limp
cause the weight of the world is so god damn heavy
These scars are proof of where ive been
Hang them up in a museum …call it, modern art
Cause I am still here
And so beautiful in my cuts
Where have you been that you don’t possess such beauty marks
As these stretches across my stomach
Life was born from here
Damn right she left her mark
You should be so honored that I let you touch this miraculous place
Show me just one
Part of your body that makes you cringe
And I will let you touch mine
While I tell you how ocean swallowing the sun beautiful you are
How dare we-so ungrateful
Have these mouths
These mythical magical merlin magician lips
Capable of creating such beautiful symphonies as this
And then let some reckless shit come out of our mouth
Like “fuck my life” or “I aint shit”
Who are you not to be wonderful?!
With all these atoms as magic
Under our finger tips
Who are we not to write Baldwin
To write Allende
Who are we not to use our legs
For such wonderful movement as dancing
As walking on air
Do not be afraid of those vulture eyes
Tell your friends to gather round you
Like a campfire
And tell them in your swinging hips
Every time you have felt beautiful
Alone in a room
Do not find comfort in the way the wall sooths your back
Find ecstasy in the way your hands fall over your head
When a Mac Dre song hits
Tell yourself
I am doper then a bobby brown piss test
I’m a speak till I aint got no spit left
I got this asthma
Racking my lungs
It would be so easy for me not to speak
To stay hooked up to a machine
I spent my first 6 years
In an E.R. breathing through plastic tubes
My lungs aren’t weak
They are warriors
These nurses didn’t stay up all night clearing my airways
So I could sit silent
Who are we not to enjoy living so much
That it makes the moon hang from our mouths
Always…growing…full
Its hard to smile some times
When the roofs are caving in
And those voices
Are growing so loud
I am not strong enough
We shouldn’t talk to ourselves this way
We wouldn’t do it to anyone we loved
How dare I-
Tell someone else they are beautiful
Before I can say it to myself
We have been through so much
So many sharp edges to wipe our crusted blood from
But we are here
Torn open and stunning
Who are we not to love ourselves
-Daniel “Fritz” Silber-Baker
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