Who am I?
Am I a woman?
Am I a mother?
Am I a thinker?
Am I a writer or a photographer?
Am I what I do?
No one asks anything of a tree, and yet they are a tree. No one asks anything of the sun, and yet, it is the sun.
Are we our relationships?
Are we our accomplishments?
Are we our feelings?
Even asking the question, begs for a static, one or two-word answer.
Why do I have to be one thing or even three?
I’m as complicated as the ocean, and as simple as a puppy.
I’m as fluid as oxygen and as solid as old oak.
I’m as weak as a blade of grass and as strong as mother’s love.
I am warmth of a summer day and the cool breeze that brings relief.
I am destruction of an earthquake and the majesty of sunrise.
I am many and one at the same time.
If you strip away my conditioning and my culture, who am I?
I am the flame of a candle.
The beacon of a lighthouse.
Lighting the way.
Follow it until you find yourself.