“Who am I?” That dreaded question sparked when asked “Who are you? & What do you do?”

Who Am I? (a poem)

who am I

You’ve been asked this before.

Of yourself and by others.

It’s a question you loath as it stumps you and falters.

Perhaps though it’s also… a question for laughter.

A question of comedy for there’s really no answer.

 

You find yourself saying, well hey I don’t know.

It’s not that I’ve neglected to find out an answer…

For its a question I’ve asked – truly – over and over…

Its a question I’ve journaled – till the pages can’t turn over…

It’s a question I’ve meditated – and still have no answer…

It’s a question I’ve divined and then thrown my damn tarot to the water.

 

I’m no therapist or coach, no mentor or writer…

I’m no healer or shaman, no teacher or speaker…

I’m none of these things as I’m more than a label…

I’m a human god damn it – is that not enough of an answer?

 

Yet in all of my questing, what I’ve found is thus this…

That I’m nothing and everything… for I’m all that there is.

I’m a body, a soul, a spirt and a seeker…

I’m in love with my life, even when it gets bleaker…

For I know in my heart I’m a truth slaying shrieker.

 

I know my own soul…

And I know my own truth…

I just don’t have the words…

That fit in a container.

 

That containers a box and it’s really a myth…

A prescribed wright of passage…

That just plain doesn’t fit…

 

For I’m alive with my knowledge…

And I grow every day…

And how is it posable that I could deny me that way?

As the truth is I’m ever changing…

Always expanding my ray.

 

So thank you for asking who I am, what I do…

And my answer to you…

Is I am…

And I do.

 

A poem about the eternal question: Who Am I?

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