Julia Travers
Mine
Sometimes
I try too hard
to say something,
to be heard.
How long I have wanted
to be seen
and heard.
I make a discordant sound,
at times.
Sometimes, I am mute
with effort,
stunted
Sometimes,
I make a mess.
Sometimes, I am the one
who doesn’t listen
to my voice.
That’s okay,
I tell myself.
I stop running,
and a new airway
opens in my throat.
I jump,
a happy colt.
Do you see
that I have my own arms?
This body is mine,
I am the only native.
The universe gave me
to me.
I remember the map
where you marked
forbidden territory
with your red marker.
It didn’t keep me
from going inward.
It didn’t make me tame.
It didn’t save you
from yourself.
I hope you find your way home.
It is not here.
"I'm Singing," acrylic on canvas, 2010
"Untitled," mixed media on canvas, 2019
Backwards
I can’t speak words
my head is sideways
my mind is sideways
can you still understand me
I never adapted
to life
I walk backwards in circles
would you like to join me
I’m tired of trying to align my wheel
to a track
maybe
I’m a runaway train
no wait
I remember
I’m a horse
Julia Travers (she/her) is a writer, artist and teacher in Virginia, U.S.A. She grew up near the Chesapeake Bay and lives in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. She writes poetry, fiction, essays and news. Her creative works are published with Short Édition, Fish Publishing, Bowery Poetry, Rattapallax, On Being/ American Public Media, Ecological Citizen and others. She was recently awarded a Martha's Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing Poet-Author Fellowship. Find her work on her WEBSITE and on Twitter as @traversjul.