Who We Are

Who We Are is a three-poem story.


1. I Am...

I am the color you see when you press a finger to your cold hand; the color that shows up only for a moment and then disappears completely.

I am the sparks behind your eyelids when you rub your eyes first thing in the morning; the sparks that give you a headache but are so intriguing that you want to see them again.

I am the sound of the leaves that you step on in the fall; cracking and scratching and reminding you of the year that has been wasted on things you can't even remember.

I am the taste of the coffee you drink at six in the morning; bitter, and a rude awakening. I burn your tongue, and you spit me out.

I am the weather that chills your bones; the wind, the frost that bites your hands, and the snow that falls in an unimaginable number of unique shapes and sizes and dusts your jacket.

I am not the moon, I am not the stars.

I am the atmosphere, and the rays of sunlight that hits the field that is overrun with wild flowers, the field you can't help but look at as you pass going seventy-three miles per hour down the highway.

I am a hurricane, and tidal waves. A crashed roller coaster sucked into the ocean.

I tell myself to be a blossom, or a tree that disobeys nature and stays covered in orange leaves through the first two snows, but I cannot be those things because I am the roots of a rose bush and the birds that nest in the branches of an evergreen in a forest so big that no one has ever been able to reach the end.

I am the edge of earth, the drop off of an ocean.

The beginning of space.

The end of the universe.

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