I have found that themes replay in my life and each time there is a subtle nuance that brings just a little more insight. I will read things that I wrote long ago and suddenly it makes sense. One such theme is identity and how it defines my day. This is a concept that has long been percolating in the back of my mind. Who am I? Not, "Who do I think I am, or Who do I want to be?" But "Who am I?..." The answer is, I am. The layers of questions never seem to end. The spiritual connotation of that answer is very much intended and purposeful. The first poem I published on this blog was Indigo's Child. It was an aspect of who I am. Somewhere along the way, I threw a bunch of ideas together and edited and rewrote and put it away and repeated that process several times. And one day I pulled those ideas out and it made sense. Here is that poem.
I am not a weaver or singer or painter or poet
and these threads tell an interesting story.
Wherever I look, they are there
and I gather them to me for warmth.
But the harder I try the more tangled they become.
And sometimes, in the quiet space between thoughts
they settle to the ground and look serene.
A picture draws me in and stills my mind.
In these moments I feel, and it is right.
The tears water my garden and the sun shines through me;
I am warm.
I am not a weaver or singer or painter or poet but