This is my sad attempt at poetry at 3 in the morning when I can't sleep...
Before you get too critical, please realize that I wrote this in 15 minutes. And it was late. And I don't write poetry. Nor do I read poetry. This is new for me.
Is this what I am?
Pushing and probing and prodding?
Am I without a hope or a faith?
Am I some wanderer who has lost his way?
Some men believe that I am.
Is this what I am?
Taking my questions
and plaguing those men
with atrocities of sulfur and ash?
Am I so foreign? Am I so strange?
But I am a man. This is all that I am.
I have no such power or luck.
If I may seek all who I am
I may find who I am to be truth.
I may find who I am to be peace.
On the other hand...
What if who I am was no such animal?
What if who I am was a fluke?
The atrocities of such an idea are...
Unimaginable.
Who I am might smite what I am.
But what if the best thing I did
was to take what I am
and keep prodding and probing and pushing?
What if the best thing I did was to keep moving on
and let those men say what they might?
Then would I become all that I am?
Or would who I am just shove me aside?
Through all of
these questions
and struggles
and hopes
and fears
one thing is clear:
I am not who I am.
And while we're at it
neither are you.
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2 comments:
Good piece. I love poetry. Good piece.
Your reading list isnt bad either. I recommend everything by Moltmann, or just reading my blog (in those few times I write)
For the last 6 weeks, we have been studying and analyzing poetry in my AP Lit class. While this does not make me an expert on poetry, I would like to say that I definitely like your poem. I can definitely identify with the "I am not who I am" business. I like it. It's genuine, human thought at its purst, most raw time...3 AM in the morning.
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