"Neat Package"

My knees folded neatly over my shoulders,

tucked behind my ears,

arms reaching behind me,

holding together the tiny package I've become.

This is how I show up,

neat, pleasant, bite-size.

Easy to dismiss.

Easy to overlook.

Easy to take advantage of.

So, I pull my arms closer,

tuck a little tighter,

make myself smaller,

a little more

& a little more,

so they will think I'm easy

& choose me after all.

But oh well,

now I'm suddenly too inflexible?

Rigid?

Standing in the way?

A small little package

people constantly drip over in the hallway,

swearing & cussing.

So smaller I must become,

less demanding,

neat & easy!

Maybe even invisible?

The smaller I become,

the angrier they get,

stubbing their toes,

crying out how cruel it is that I'm still always in the way.

Then, one day, someone kicks me again

& sets in motion the inner mechanics of the package I've become.

Like an inflatable toy,

I suddenly snap into size.

They look at me with eyes wide open,

now I'm blocking the hallways for real,

too big to fold,

too tired of being kicked & yelled at.

The sight of this inflatable toy

- a grim clown nonetheless -

upsetting & not neat,

blocking the hallway,

no way around,

can't be ignored, nor reversed,

too big now for the tiny box.

And so it will be for the rest of my life,

no package,

not neat,

not folded,

but me.

If you found this poem - Thank you for being here! I'd love to connect.

Juna Franka on Instagram