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