Do Not Praise Me For My Suffering

And hear me for my suffering
find redemption from my suffering
have respect for my suffering
connect to my suffer–we all suffer
but do not praise me for my suffering
do not know me
just
for
my suffering
know me for my words that cut like fire
and my heart that melts ice
my presence that is warm like the buzz of a honey bee to pink petals who want it near
know me for my brash humor
my wit that cuts
my insecurity that shakes some days when it walks into a room of greats
turns to the man beside me
to ask
do I belong?
but lord I hope I never become famous
or known
for my suffering
even be it my honesty in suffering
for I know it is rare in a world that shuts its blinds
and locks out the world when they are not well
and walks out Monday with shining stained white perfect teeth
and a white Starbucks mug
not a hair a miss
yelling
“hi joe!”
sweetly and surely
as you drive by waving
but
I don’t want to spread that message
suffering
no suffering is not my message
honesty is easy
honesty is also not my message
I want to be remembered for my heart
for the words I draw
that dance
of what it means to be human
so when people say
thank you
when I share my pain
a part of me cringes
because I hope you see more than my pain, or my suffering or my honesty
I hope that why I wake and create shines through and you remember me for that.

Janne Robinson is a poet and author of
This Is For The Women Who Don’t Give A Fuck.
Pre-order your copy now!