I am wind.
I am dirt.
I am sand, I am water, and the pebbles beneath.
I am strong.
I am weak.
I am tethered and torn.
I am broken.
I am new.
I am starting again — oh sunrise in my heart.

I am bones and skin.
I am long and thin.
I am riding on two wheels,
Coasting down hills,
Because the wind is my lover — and I am the wind.

I am you.
There, in that look, that smile, that tear.
I am weightless.
I am stoned with the story you tell.
I am alone and not alone.
I am part of that fallen leaf there,
And part of that laughter beyond.

I am different now,
Or perhaps the same as I've always been —
Only tunneled through a long chute of pouring rain,
Hail and rainbows.
I am only sure of one thing:
That what is arising is also passing.
And I am only what I am.
I am — just because that's why.
No more brain trying to alter this vehicle.

I am, so I'm not — truly.
Sometimes, I am really not on this plane.
Feet planted, but soul all around.
I am brown and gray and light blue and plump dark greens.
Rich soil. Humus.
I am free when I am simple —
Just here. This moment.

I am fingers and toes,
Hair and eyes,
Muscles and blood,
Ears and cries.
Thank you for these.

I am hungry.
I am full.
I am tired — just so tired.
I am silly.
I am sad.
I am all I've ever had.

So, there I am.

I'm all I've ever had —
Whatever that really is.
And I give it to you:
This body.
This soul that sings.




(Selah Broderick)