The Discomfort of Labels, a poem



I, too. . .

feel the winter’s gloom,

it’s cold, icy fingertips

do grasp at weary heart

worn out from the endless battle

of our tired existence.

I, too . . .

sometimes wish to let it all go,

when spoken words –

fall meaningful off the tongue

seeping truths with heart’s lament

yet it falls not, on willing ears.

It is not to say

our words aren’t heard

or that the summer sun

never peeks beneath the cloud filled skies

no, but it is to say

that sometimes – yes, sometimes

living makes us weary,

every breath taken in earnest

to feel – to touch – to share

no moments are wasted

on the sensitive heart

it flows through veins – fiery hot

passionate and full of meaning

each stroke of the pen, felt hard and deep

and we share our deepest secrets

and sometimes, yes sometimes

it feels a little lonely.

In a world

where cold, hostile acts

fuel the fire of angry hearts

and fury throws its accusations.

misunderstood and labeled,

your heart beats different

but onlookers are indifferent

to those obvious truths.

No matter that you seek

to walk in beauty,

no matter that your words

are proof enough

of gentle heart and open mind,

you become weary

from always trying

to disprove the lies,

because no matter who you are,

no matter what the label,

it truly never fits

and we writhe

in our own discomfort.
© Sumyanna 2015


Fabulous image courtesy of

At this time. labels weigh heavily on many minds.  We ache in its untruths, despite the fact we are powerless to change anything.  Words spoken, are taken lightly and then they say they’ve never been uttered.  We cry tears that are left unheard, for we feel the pain of these atrocities.  This is not who we are.  We will cripple ourselves under its weight, if we’re not careful.


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