Virtual Open Mic: Kellie Joy

Listen to Kellie's audio clips:

• https://on.soundcloud.com/J9JoEFY5WKzLNGre9

• https://on.soundcloud.com/8i75HKtShUk7AqKC9

It’s funny how the trauma was washed away so quickly 

And when I was young I didn’t think how sad that was 

But the little Phoenix was already lifetimes old 

And hot boiling water like ice to her flames 

Still sad 

I know 

A child should be a child 

Maybe because I feel my purpose 

I don’t feel angry 

I don’t feel like I lost my life 

I just want to heal the world 

Under my burning flames 

Is a child though 

She’s holding an insect and keeping it safe 

And talking to it til she finds a perfect home 

You can burn her 

Hit her 

Tell her she’s stupid 

But there’s no darkness inside 

There’s a candle light 

That one day will be 

Her stars 

Guiding her 

The child 

The woman 

The Phoenix 

The healer 

Ragged doll 

Broken just like me 

She was always needing mending

 but this was my favorite companion 

My soulmate with cotton stuffing 

And arms dangling 

An extension of everything I felt 

 To me she was perfect 

 But we love the truly perfect 

Not what we see in our hearts 

Or our comfort 

Because my friend was too much work 

And I was too little to fix her failing body

She was tossed away 

It was then I saw my scars differently 

My friend was real to me 

Just like my heart 

That broke a little that day

I wasn’t there 

Maybe that’s the strangest and most heart wrenching words I’ve said 

I 

Wasn’t 

There 

But I was 

These scars belong to me 

But the memories are in the house I grew up in

In the kitchen where my little body felt pain 

As I ripped at my skin

My mom taking me to the bath

It doesn’t feel real as I write my experience

Thinking of the next line 

How to make a poem about something 

That’s been everyone’s narrative but my own 

The hospital 

I was feeding my stuffed friends and making sure they are ok before I would eat

I was a sweet child looking for affection 

I wish I could be there and tell her how important she is 

I wish I could do something 

The little boy who is probably the reason behind the smiles in my photographs

My arm destroyed but 

Cheese!!

And I’m just a regular child 

But I’m not 

She’s so adorable and kind 

And she has a friend for a little while 

I wonder if I tried to feed him too

I smile 

Then I feel tears because I don’t know what it felt like 

At school kids asked every year what happened and why I can’t take off the skin that looked as if I could remove it

But I explained I couldn’t 

And trust me I would have if I could 

The questions

As I got older and more mature 

Where else are your scars 

Just here see

I lied 

I did not own my own memories 

I was attempting to own my body 

I didn’t want to be a display for curiosity 

My life is covered in scars that I remember 

there are ones I wish I could forget 

But sometimes we don’t even have control of who we are 

Who would I be if I saw vividly the hot water hitting my body and hear  the screams as if it were yesterday 

My childhood was scars

And fighting a war that no one saw

I was this little grown soul

Very confused about what’s ok and what’s going to mean 

I need to act differently 

Act

Like I was a character that needed better lines 

Change my smile 

Change my laugh 

Change quickly 

 as easy as changing the tv dial

My scars remind me once again I can’t control everything 

Not even my memories 

All that’s left is feelings

Lots of feelings 

And I can’t always control this either 

I’m a traveler 

And I’m every age I’ve ever been 

And never been

Knitted loosely 

And just like that 

I change into my next character 

So how do I write a poem about a tiny little girl sitting in the hospital 

Feeding her stuffed friends

About a friend I don’t remember but I miss

I wasn’t really there 

Because sometimes 

Somethings are not real until the right time 

Sometimes our feelings are just as important as memories 

Sometimes the scars that we wanted to remove will light our  path 

She’s this quiet challenging storm 

About to break every hinge holding herself together 

She’s the pictures in the attic

There’s a poet In there 

Even at 4 before feelings made any sense 

Every birthday party that wasn’t hers

Everyone who looked over her little piggy tailed head

Until she looked away, escaping 

 hoping something would be important enough 

It never was

She got lost in paper bound fairytales

And  pretending

Cheese, crackers , and pickles and the kind of music you hear in your head 

But it’s noise 

Pots and pans for drums 

She doesn’t need a damn thing 

She’s 4

There’s this little feisty poet with her compact feelings

Stuffed tightly in the suitcase 

With the shoes that she can’t fit into yet

And the plain brown shoes that makes her feel like a grown up 

This girl is watching every one 

And no she’s not daydreaming 

She’s thinking about 

The universe 

Her purpose 

And how the hell to save the little creatures 

And maybe one day she can be good enough for a conversation 

She falls asleep with the small stuffed creature 

Fuzzy and warm and nothing but comfort

She’s a kid 

Not a philosopher 

But to be honest this isn’t a kid

Awkward and charismatic and never in sync for long 

A fire shooting in all directions

And a map to everything she’s gonna be 

When being older makes more sense 

She’s going to rise from the ashes 

Over and over again 

Until it doesn’t matter if it’s fire 

Or a cool stare

She’ll 

Shut the doors 

Forget the pictures 

She’s 44

And she needs you 

Not because she can’t stand on her own 

But because you are her heart piece 

Her souls language 

The one who she’s waited to understand her 

I was controversial from the moment I was born 

My mother wasn’t fit to have more kids

She wasn’t capable of raising me. Not emotionally or intellectually 

This was my start in life 

A fresh canvas marred by a mother whose own picture was incomplete 

And her impatience juxtaposed with her need to be more than a mother 

To a little girl like me 

To be the young woman she lost 

I have scars because she couldn’t heal