I AM WHAT YOU MAKE ME:

I am a father who never cared
I am a mother who was always there
I am a brother who needs to cut his hair
                              [or get eaten by a bear]

I am the places I lived
I am the small house with piles of laundry
The socks looking like creatures among the dirty jeans and shirts
I am the soiled apartment with stacks of dishes
Looking like Atlantis among greasy, iridescent, soap bubbles

I am all the trips I ever took
All the planes soaring high, cutting through clouds like angel wings
All the cars puttering down lonely highways that go on for infinite miles
All the trains billowing smoke through idyllic countrysides, stuck to tracks like toys
I am the cross-country car rides
The ones that took me from friends and home
I am the winding streets
The dusky city-scape outside my dirty motel window
I am the reservations I passed through
Filled with people, their russet skin dust-worn and tired

I am the people I talk to
I am the people I embrace
I am the choices I make
Both conscious and not
I am all the feelings I ever had
Sorrow, Guilt, Hate, Anger
Happiness, Joy, Love, Elation
I am the sins I ever committed
Envy, Wrath, Sloth, Lust, Greed, Pride, Gluttony
I am all the repenting I permitted

I am in all the things I do
Sculpted by what I’ve already done
Where I’ve already been
What I’ve already seen and said

I am the words I wrote
The books I read
The pictures I drew
The phone calls I made
The tears I cried
The smiles I gave
The laughter I echoed under cerulean skies
The photographs I posed in
And even in the words you are reading now
I am showing you, giving you, a piece of me
How will you shape me?

What will you make of me?