Defy

Tristan Robert Lange

When I was young
I was told to always look up,
That one day I would grow up,
That, if at all possible,
It is always best to show up,
To be on time—
To not be punctual is a crime—
Because adults are grown up
And it is best to act that way
Lest you get thrown up
By society.
 
So, heeding that advice,
I believed I knew the price,
That to not grow up—
To not conform and
Return to the throw up—
Would find me
 
Unworthy of love,
 
A wingless,
dying dove.
 
So, I changed.
After all,
         don’t we all?
 
We do.
 
But here’s the rub,
We build the walls,
Smoothe over every flub,
Polish our outer shells,
Blow every whistle,
Sound all the bells.
 
And for what?
Has that bought us anything?
Did that deliver desirably?
Has the love we procured lasted?
 
And, wise friend,
Even if it has—
Even if we have lasting love—
Is it love of you,
Or who you’ve fooled yourself
Into thinking you are?
 
This is where,
Tormented traveler,
I come to a truth I’ve tapped,
One that won’t hang around
Unless you grab it,
Plant it,
And let it take root.
 
We were not created to grow up.
 
No, we are to grow down,
To grow deep.
 
Like trees,
Our height should be a shadow-sight
Of our truest depths.
 
That,
As tall as we may appear to be,
We are only strong
Because we are
Deeply rooted
In who we are.
That this current iteration,
Though older,
Broader,
Taller,
Stronger,
Is the same iteration
 
Of me
 
That I always remember
Me to be.
 
So, you see,
Let’s kick this damn fantasy
Of growing up to be big.
Hell no—time to defy.
The core of who I was then
Is who I was always
 
Meant to be.
 
I defy.
 
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

✔ Receive the ebook in seconds ✔ 50 poems from 50 different authors




To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.