Here is a poem I recently wrote that I wanted to share with you.
I find myself sitting,
thinking about this life,
my hopes, goals, dreams.
Are they really mine?
Am I really unique?
Floating aimlessly like driftwood on a sea of intellects,
bobbing about with the turning of the tides.
How can I anchor without a seabed, a rock,
a concrete understanding of who I am?
I continue where the current moves me.
What defines me?
The color of my skin, my nationality, language, heritage?
These things are happenstance,
a figment of society,
a chance of genetics.
My journey seems bright,
but why am I fishing in the blackness of the cove?
There’s more to me than what is seen,
my surface thin, permeable, as delicate as the petals of an aging flower.
As certain as the sun rises and falls,
as the world turns and the waters dance with the power of the moon,
I am more than anyone knows.
Thank you for reading.