I am/I am not
-- by COR 113, fall 2011, Naropa University
Compiled by Candace Walworth
I am a voice. I am not always loud.
I am broken, I am not in pieces, I am electric.
I am an open book, I am not clinging to the talking bones in my closet.
I am not able to speak my words.
I am quiet.
I am not President Barack Obama.
I am not a finite speck of stardust that will one day crumble; I am the star itself.
I am not a human with a soul; I am a soul with a human body.
I am my mother.
I am not her addiction.
I am a dancer.
I am not alone. I am struggling with believing I am not alone.
I am one among all that have been abused – all of us in different ways.
I am very angry – I am not sure what to do.
I am a sexual being – I am not afraid.
I am afraid to see you; I am not afraid to imagine you.
I am an owl; I am not in my nest.
I am hungry for inspiration.
I am not you.
I am me.
I am scared.
I am not a junkie.
I am sober.
I am ready for a new beginning.
I am not any gender.
I am the path.
I am not map maker.
I am not these words but they flow through me.
I am a dancer.
I am a perfect part of the puzzle.
I am in love.
I am love.
I am a dancer, dancing my way home with you.
I am the cosmic giggle that will remain till the end of infinity itself, always comforting the disturbed and disturbing the comfortable