I am: A Self Portrait

I am

009

I am the early morning riser, the coffee drinker, the north road driver. Maker of all things breakfast. I am happy and hopeful for all the possibilities an early morning brings. I am well, joyful and loved. I am kind, caring and thoughtful. I am the florist, the barista, the raw materials manager. I am overflowing with project ideas, beautiful food, and plans for peonies. Lover of the winters pink morning sky, a chunky skein of wool, and a buttery scone.

479

I am the farmer, the fresh egg finder, the chicken catcher, the puppy chaser. I am the arms that bring in firewood to dry, the hands that guide the saw through finely marked lines, the carpenter. I am the sander, painter, picture taker. I am the open arms, the waiting kiss, the worried mind soother.

373

I am the fisherman, the butcher, the fresh bread baker. Lover of a simple way of life, spoken word, fine lines written. I am the huntress, the gatherer, the crocheted stitch. I am the good.

I am the bed clinger, the complainer, the wrinkle in the sheets, the truck driving too fast. Burner of all things forgotten. I am worried and afraid of all the things that could go wrong. I am grouchy, dark and broody. I am sharp, quick and irritated. I daydream of going back to bed.

003

I am overwhelmed with life and don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance. Cringer of the cold, piled up bills, the overpowering soup. Professional frozen egg tosser, the frost-bitten chicken ignorer, the rushed puppy scolder. I am the weight, the drowning sorrow.

013

I am the grudged snowy steps, the crossed arms, the worried mind. I am the time waster, the produce waster, the stale bread. Waiter of the time passing until I am the woman that comes undone. I am the fear, the anxiety, the bothersome bruise. I am the bad.

197

I am the stain on the floor, the black eye, the gripping panic attack. I am the nothing eater, the bloodshot eye, the tempting darkness. Piercer of all things hopeful. I am the lonely, the closed guard, the defensive tongue. I am the terrible things done, the secret keeper, the family destroyer. I am unsure of how to put one foot forward. I deserve nothing.

517

Manifester of all things horrid, a pushed button, a quick burn. I am the suppressed, the judge, the sob, the cracked knuckles. I am the slouched shoulders, the carrier of all dark thought, the knife pusher. I am the shut door, the broken collarbone, the hungry mind. I am the selfish heart, the undeserving, the human. I am the ugly.

034

I am the human.

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