I am

I am who I am is what I’ve told myself

“Be who you are” is what I’m told.

But when all you’re told is of what is expected.

What society, over years, has constructed.

And all our ways are so restricted.

That our hope is solely to be accepted.

And yet, “I am who I am” is what I’ve said.

Who?

I am who I am

But I no longer know who I am

Because who I’ve been is who I’ve wanted to be

So that others can see?
And that I may be free?

But that does not make me who I am

Or who I could be

But would I be who I need to be

To be the me the world ceases to see?

But who I am is whom I’ve tried not to be.

To be all whom I can be

And still things have worked in revers

For who I am is who I should be

Whom I could be but possibly

Not whom I want to be

Nor whom I stay saying, ‘I’m me.’

Will I ever be free?

Truth.

Stories unfold

Of secrets untold

Meanings understood

And reasons forgotten.

Blind belief

Broken in grief

Claiming to know

The One who sees all.

Sleeping spirit rise

Tell all mankind

Truth is not told

But seen all around.

Before You Reach

You wish you knew what to do

Or even what to say

Helpless and burdened

You keep walking your way

You wonder, ‘Will it ever end?’

This mountain that you scale.

The valley may have been beautiful,

But it’s always about the climb.

You struggle to hold on.

You wish to give up.

You want to go home.

You’re just tired and rough.

Your voice is coarse as you cry out for help,

But not a soul will appear to dry your tears.

Then you quieten, leave every thought aside.

To hear a voice that calls your name, faintly from inside.

The more you listen, the louder you hear.

The easier the climb, as the peak draws near.

You’re going home, though a while it may take.

But you’re determined to give your best, even before you reach.