“to be or not to be”,
Shakespeare’s words.
well, it’s easy.
it’s easy to take
the words of another,
to quote brave,
honorable,
true souls,
to quote,
love, joy, passion, dreams,
to quote just like mrs. who,
mrs. who,
mrs. who in a wrinkle in time,
a character.
a character that found ideas in aristotle,
found peace in gandhi,
found passion in mandela
found love in buddha.
a character
who never really spoke.
mrs.who didn’t have to be,
didn’t have to not be,
didn’t have to be brave,
didn’t have to be honorable,
didn’t have
to be
true,
because she didn’t have
the chance to,
she stood in a screen,
in the script of a novel,
a tale in a story.
she,
well, she isn’t real.
but what’s real is the who staring into the depths of a puddle,
the who’s that will feet to class,
the who’s that write astronaut next to the word dream,
the who’s that can speak.
but if those who’s are real,
are they really brave?
are they really honorable?
are they
really
true?
are they true to the words of robotic answers?
are they true to the pools that never fall?
are they true to the who
in their mirror?
are they truly real?
are we ever,
can
we ever be the who’s
we all see?
be the who’s we want
to see in each other?
mrs. who
was me
the who that gazed upon stars
between the crevasses
of the window sill,
that added to a resume
after every achievement,
that stood watching another character…
watching another character find their truth
mrs. who was me,
but mrs.who wasn’t real,
I was.
was I…
real?
was ideas,
was bravery
was honor
was truth
the nouns
that made me
be me?
mrs. who didn’t get the chance,
didn’t get to chance to be brave
to be honorable
to be true
but I did,
the chance to be brave,
to be honorable,
to be true,
or not to be,
not to be…
understood.
not to be understood,
not to be intertwined,
not to be with you…
yet unable to be
with me.
do we,
do we never,
do we.. never
be
“we”?