My Name: A familiar stranger
My name, a beautiful paradox,
a word that describes me
and yet one that does not define me.
Strangers become acquaintance,
And then my friends,
But why does this journey starts with my name?
Wherever I go, whomsoever I meet,
First what they ask from me, is my name with the greet.
It does not project who I am or who I could be,
Simply, a word that my parents chose to label me.
I asked them once, why Mia and not Aishling,
The answer I got “it does not have a nice ring”.
How so, my name that people use to address me with,
Is not something which I relate with?
Cheerful, creative, bubbly and happy
Some words that actually describe me,
But not the ones with which people know me.
I feel like a stranger with my name,
As if we don’t belong to the same.
It does not give me a sense of belonging
Rather a longing
For my body reacts to a title
That my heart refuses to undertake.
When I die this label will rest heavy on my soul,
As kind, a loving person comes after my name on the gravestone.
1B, BA (JMC)