Off for her daily hike Smiling and thinking How are you she says I’m fine she says I’m good she says We talk about me, not her Who is she inside, always unknown An enigma, a feather brushing through the day There she goes again, waving brightly Who is she inside, we’ll never know
Reflections
I wrote this from the perspective of those who see me out on my daily hike with my dog Bear. As I was writing, it became utterly clear to me that nobody knows who I truly am, and it’s been this way my whole life.
Is it like that for everyone? It makes me wonder, am I destined to go through life unknown?
Unknown is safe; unknown is what I’m used to, and maybe because I am unknown is the reason I find it easy to write poetry. And maybe that is a good thing, being unknown.