My Worth

I’ve learned of your knowledge and wisdom, which your corrections so frequently show
They present some form of your interest, by sharing all that you know.
But it’s obviously only a semblance of caring, because of all of the ways
that you find faults in multitudes of matters over months, over weeks, over days.

I wish that you could love me for the semblance of human I am
but I understand how just that thing is quite an unreasonable plan;
just as you cannot judge the book before it’s removed from the shelf,
how can you possibly love me, if I cannot yet love myself?

You don’t know my worth
because I don’t know my worth
but I’m heading for rebirth any day now.
A renaissance soon heads my way,
as I mentioned, any day,
I feel it coming, come what may;
I don’t know how.

Oh, lord! I can feel it coming tonight. I feel I’ve been waiting a while.
It’s thick in the air. It’s everywhere, a sense of return from exile.
Thank you for trying to fix me, by presenting my faults with such wit.
It shows, I suppose, your belief that I could be more of a “he” than an “it.”

Or maybe you just felt it better that people be kept in their place.
I’m not sure that it matters, for soon, I can hope for a taste
of a better life than this one. Where I can live with the rest
of the folks in the world – like you – who will strive for their very best.

You don’t see my worth
because I don’t see my worth
but soon the breadth and girth of my value
is something we’ll both recognize.
And my worth’s Goliath size
will be such a precious prize
to hold onto.

It’s not your fault. I’ve set it up. I’ve been this way for years.
Allowing you and everyone else to exploit all my fears.
If I’d looked inside, or gotten self-help, or been to the wizard – or read,
I might have resolved this decades back – or, chances good, been dead.

But as it stands, I’m certain, change is gonna come,
and sure as hell, I mean it, well, my downward days are done.
I’m coming up, like a flower, and I want the world to know:
this is the very last night that I am eating crow.

You don’t recognize my worth
since all I speak of is its dearth
but if my last act on this Earth is to transform,
then you will see a chang-ed man;
I’ll become something else again
and as far as the horizon’s span
we’ll see a new norm.

You don’t know my worth
since I ain’t found my worth
but bet, I will unearth it any moment
At some point I will be
deserving, eventually,
of glory, and worthy
of that bestowment.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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