I Am Who I Am

I am who I am.
I am not that piece of clay you could mold into the being-
So like the model statue you purchased to decorate your life.
I am who I am., your one and only.
You wanted three others to
Complete the painting of your ideal life.
I am a tree alone in the woods
That for some unknown reason stopped growing and
Was blown to pieces of bark by a hurricane-
But I am who I am and
You were the hurricane that shattered
Your own dream of the person you wanted me to be-
After my first fall you cried every night,
I was told, and my tears were dry but copious.
Restrained and locked in a room called seclusion, where
Floors were urine stained and paint peeling off the walls-
This place where crazy people were confined,
Alone to scream, cry and pound upon the walls.
My screams, blood curdling as a car smashing into another.
My tears, I wept –could you hear?
Pounding upon the walls-they could have shattered while
More paint chips fell upon the filthy, dusty floors.
I am who I am. A lone person with no facial expression painted
And in a reclining position-in the midst of an incomplete picture
Where three other people were never drawn, because they were never born.
I am who I am- your one and only- and you have been gone for twenty years.
I am a tree alone in the woods that had fallen but was somehow replanted and
Grew to touch the sky. If you could see me now, perhaps
I would more resemble that ideal statue and you may be proud
To see the person I have become. But I shall never know for certain and neither shall you.
I am who I am- a lone figure standing against a plain piece of paper, though
With an expression of thoughtfulness and perhaps even a smile and
Now my tears can be seen because it may not matter that I am your one and only
Because I have grown to be somebody you may be proud to see.
I weep plentiful tears of dismay because you are too far away for me to reach-
I am who I am and there are no paint chips falling and I can see my reflection
Upon the clean and polished floors and some place in the back of my mind
I am hoping you can in your own way, see it also-
I am who I am- not a failure but a strong brave person who is like
A tree in the woods that shall never stop growing until I touch the sky,
Where you are in heaven and there we will meet and you would be proud
Of the person I have grown to become and that I am who I am- your daughter.

poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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