i have been known

to wear chunky black doc martens

to winter funerals and wakes under long skirts.

they are warm and they are practical,

but mostly

they make me feel strong –

which is how i would like to feel

at funerals and wakes,

but almost never do.

i guess that i have embraced (finally) this, and other quirks.

i know what i like and what i don’t

although i’m not always sure

just why…

a few years ago a friend passed to me a beautiful  jacket.

its soft leather and well cut lines

give it sort of timeless appeal

and yet,

every time i put it on

i feel as though i am pretending to be someone else.

someone who would actually own and sport this jacket.

i have a vague memory of knowing someone once with a similar one

who was nothing like the person i hope and strive to be.

all the details of that image are hazy and vague

leaving me no solid reason to dislike it,

but i do.

i especially dislike

who i feel like i must be

with my skin inside it’s lining.

so in 2011, i am choosing that this will be enough

(of a kick in the seat of my well worn denim flares)

for me to pass it along to someone who will love it as it could be loved;

who will feel very much like themselves when they wear it.

i’m sure that my motorcycle jacket

will not miss its company.

actually,

i think she will

revel in the elbow room

that the exit of the newcomer

will ultimately allow her.

not that she spends much time in the front hall closet, anyway,

being the one jacket that i feel completely myself in.

‘skin’ taken from 37:6 of ezekiel.