Someday
I will be an artist
I can still see the moment
in my mind’s eye when my teacher pointed me out to another
they were standing in the doorway smiling and chatting about me —
I was biting my tongue as I am working aggressively
to fill in the rest of the brown on my horse
at home, I’m a girl of 7 and cry in my soup
pecking order
Someday
I will be a singer
I still recall the first feelings of power coming from my throat, MY voice
I used to perform for a make-believe audience from Dad’s desk in the basement of our colonial home —
my brush was my microphone
I sang I went to a garden party
A girl of 11 told, please go away
killing time
Someday
I’ll go to college and when I graduate, I’ll be an adult
I remember walking into my first college class, my instructor asked
me if my name was Afrikaans
A woman of 19 looking for a home
anything is better than living alone
Someday
I will be a wife and a mother
it will all finally make sense because I’ll create a beautiful home
prepare delicious meals
keep an eye on our lives
and they will be tidy
A woman of 23 searching for family
purpose arrives
Someday I’ll be respected in my career
someday I’ll learn to stop worrying
someday I’ll be satisfied with reality
So
Me
Day
Yay!
Now it’s my turn!
the tables have turned
around my heart
Now I understand love, I’ve let go
Now I understand people, I’ve said goodbye
Now I understand peace, it was always mine
A woman now 55 weaving life with golden threads —
an infinity loom spinning
a figure 8 drawing
in a perfect space