This is one of my first poems, written in the early days of therapy. The struggle between my twin halves continues, though not with the same degree of viciousness.

Gods above and Mother Fate
I grow so weary with my hate,
I come before you ill and weak
A dram of peace from you I seek.

Before you stand the bloodied remains
Of a child once battered and held in chains.
Look beyond this vacant smile,
And watch the battle, for a while.

Watch the battle now converge
Upon each other, “Forward, surge!”
And watch the person I was meant to be
Fall before you so comically

See me writhe upon the ground,
My cries for death a tortured sound.
I am so tired and my will has gone.
What good is life to dream upon?

She Whom I Was Meant To Be
Lies prone and vanquished and blind to see,
While from above a sword descends,
My enemy has come, my life to end.

I look into my killer’s eyes
And feel despair, I cannot die;
For in her face I see my own,
We are two halves, and so alone.

She Whom I Was Meant To Be
And She Whom I’m Supposed To Be;
I cannot thrive on divided turf,
They will not live on communal earth.

Gods above and Mother Fate,
I come to you for wisdom sate,
Show me now where next I turn
So we as one can both now learn.

Take this pain away from me,
And send it somewhere I can’t see,
Give me purpose, give me life,
And of contentment, the smallest slice.

For deep inside a dream exists,
I’ve kept it hidden within the mists
Of my primal soul, so dark and warm,
I’ve kept it safe from hate and harm.

When truce has come to my embattled life,
And I have stayed the awful knife,
I’ll call it forth and set it free,
And maybe then, I’ll behoove me.

c. February 2, 1988