It’s an image often framed in bathrooms,
in the morning, after self-destructive nights.
It’s sometimes seen through lenses.
They don’t always capture the good side.
It’s a living photograph that changes with days,
evolves with emotions, the fear and the pride.
It isn’t always pretty, or easy on eyes…
the object isn’t always focused, but if you squint you can see.
That it’s a picture of a racist, a sexist,
and a homophobe addicted to being accepted.
It’s drawn by outside influences,
pounded into our program by commercials and curriculum.
It’s the denial that troubles me, the ignorance,
and the way that I failed to see the truth for so long.
It’s caused anger, challenged my soul.
But instead of being passive, I am active in the painting now.
It’s going to be a clearer image eventually, full of truth,
I just need to know the real me when I see him in the mirror now.