Story behind "Names"

When I was in 9th and 10th grades I lived in a small rural town.  I had moved there from a larger city.  To call the move hell is an understatement.  Even back in the "city" I had been a bit odd and eccentric.  But in a small farming community I was a downright freak.  No, I didn't have a ton of piercings, strange hair or anything.  I was just different.  And to most of them different was to be feared, avoided and what I felt most of all, judged.  In 11th grade I was fortunate enough to be accepted to a public arts high school with a dorm, back near my beloved city.  I was now almost normal by their standards.  But I still felt sometimes like an outsider.  I sometimes felt that I was still being judged.  So that's where this poem came in.  Pretty obvious I know.  But teens can't be expected to write not-so obvious poetry.

Names

Like God said to Adam
“Go forth and conquer the earth”
Naming creatures
That didn’t need them at all
So you name me,
And claim your Godhead
I need no name.
Only a heart to give me emotions,
A mind to give me thoughts,
And a soul to give me purity.
The body that I inhabit
Is here for appearance only,
Gives motion and protection
It is not who I am.
You are not the first
You will not be the last,
To look upon my body
With its curves, shapes, and blemishes,
Giving me a name I do not need.
I am not saying that I am perfect
I am far from it,
But I know what I am,
Beautiful in heart, mind, and soul
I have emotions
I have thoughts,
And though many have tried to steal it,
I have purity.
Names cannot steal this from me,
Only I control what I am.
You may be able to hurt me,
But there will be
People to help me fix those hurts,
And one of those people is
Me.

Copyright Heidi-rose I. Creuizger

About the poem

I thought it would be neat to give a mini story behind each piece.  "So This is Life" was written my senior year of high school.  I was in my Lit class and we were doing various exercises, as we did every day.  That day I was in a typical high schooler "mood".  I don't remember what the exercise was, but this was the result.  I remember hating it but I read it out for the group anyway.  There was a pause and then people said "wow. That was really good".  I've had people tell me that this is what they see as sort of an iconic piece of mine.  I still have trouble seeing it as there are pieces I've written that I like MUCH better.  But an artist is never the best judge of their own work.  A lot of the thoughts and images were things I was seeing around me.  The datebook being scratched was the classmate next to me, they had these little scratches on what looked like a new datebook.  The lunchbox was what I used as a purse back then and people kept asking where my Twinkies were, I used to say it ate them.  And I have NEVER understood why manufacturers put those little holes in shoes.

So this is life

 “So this is Life”

All,

All was going down

Yeah

Like a heat wave on a traffic conductor.

You fill up the gas tank

and scream at the lunch box that ate your Twinkies.

Nobody noticed that you darkened your hair

So you lash out to the freak who’s next to you

and whisper

“Yeah this is life.”

So do you want to fuck?

Or do you just want to bump and grind?

There’s safety pin tracks on your arm

It hurts so much

You don’t wanna move it

But you’ve gotta.

It used to be a razor you know.

Right after you shaved your legs.

You used to cry to the death angel.

Your best friend tried to hold you

They tried to push death away.

This is life

Yeah, well,

this is life.

You wear your name tag at home

and you dress down at church.

You never knew Christ had a first name,

Daddy never told you.

Your date book is scratched too,

The latch is new.

Your pencil lined notebook’s splashed with your blood

You hold your pants up with a piece of cow.

The holes in your shoes are supposed to be there

still they let in the cold

and wet.

your shoelace never does get tied.

Light and dark make no difference to you.

You walk around screaming at the stoplight

that won’t turn green.

The walk signal’s broken.

True life is really down.

This is life

Yeah, well

This is life


Copyright Heidi-rose I. Creuziger