identity

• bir julio noboa polanco şiiri, as follows:
  
  identity
  
  let them be as flowers,
  always watered, fed, guarded, admired,
  but harnessed to a pot of dirt.
  
  i’d rather be a tall, ugly weed,
  clinging on cliffs, like an eagle
  wind-wavering above high, jagged rocks.
  
  to have broken through the surface of stone,
  to live, to feel exposed to the madness
  of the vast, eternal sky.
  to be swayed by the breezes of an ancient sea,
  carrying my soul, my seed, beyond the mountains of time
  or into the abyss of the bizarre.
  
  i’d rather be unseen, and if
  then shunned by everone,
  than to be a pleasant-smelling flower,
  growing in clusters in the fertile valley,
  where they’re praised, handled and plucked
  by greedy, human hands.
  
  i’d rather smell of musty, green stench
  than of sweet, fragrant lilac.
  if i could stand alone, strong and free,
  i’d rather be a tall, ugly weed.