This fall I attended a retreat and one of the poetry workshop gave this assignment of crafting a poem using “I am” statements to describe a scene. This is my attempt…
I am the mouse who sneaks in the dark
to find treasures left from the night before,
startled by the buzz of the machine that tells me I
am not alone.
I am the nutty steam climbing
among swirls of blackness and cream.
from the edges of a Red and Black Rutger’s mug
that comforts in the space of an absent child.
I am the fluffy down blanket swaddled around pink flannel pj’s
pulled from the tub of last winters clothes, when the weather suddenly but finally changed.
I am the wrinkled sunny pillowcase of 600 count Egyptian cotton
bearing smudges of yesterday’s mascara on my edges like skywriter’s fog.
I am the distracting carmel colored coffee spill
born yesterday from little feet and paws seeking warmth before the furnace had been stoked.
I am the worn leather book with with the soft padded edges
rounded in hands like soft familiar clay
bearing a rainbow of highlights and dogeared corners.
I am the proud pink grosgrain ribbon, edges frayed by
peaceful and anxious hands, keeping perfect place
like a guard at the palace gate.
I am the verse poured over and loved
in the context of ancients yet
precise for the moment and space.
I am The Voice, spoken but silent
dividing truth from error
intimate yet other
the same today as before the day
light was separated from darkness.
I am the window glanced through with
two tiny peanut butter fingerprints on my sill,
unable to hold the heaviness of night
from the dawn, I assure with warm rays pouring in across the
crumpled sheets.
I am the child content and silent
at her mother’s breast.
digesting grace and truth
as pure nourishment for a weary soul.