too many things I could say that I am
and even more that I am not
which define me more?
who can say which memory
weighs
heavier
and which should?
life story, what brought me life, what
took it what
tore at it and chewed it and
s p i t it out and somehow
I was still breathing?
or what nurtured and blew on the
soul of me like I was a
fledgling fire, embers on the verge
of greatness or
fizzle-out.
who’s to say, really.
maybe it’s all
the story of me
the befores and
afters and
inbetweens.
maybe its all ground up into the
core of me, ashes and firebird feathers
death and flying
in
the
same
breath.