SOMETIMES

Sometimes I am a rock.

My erosion is constant and immeasurable but invisible. I catch the water and offer the earth protection from its sweet, sweet, salty neighbor – a sacrifice that I am bound to make. My strength is as sincere as the glimpse between lovers when their eyes sparkle just before their lips meet and their hearts sink into the deepest moment of a soul. I take the earth as my host and I hug it and touch it in all the places I can so that it will not forget me, and I let the sea abuse me and wear down on me because I love her too. And I let the wind tear the waters from my skin to quench its thirst, and the fire is determined to consume everything but me, because the flames are in love with the idea of boundaries.

Sometimes I am the sea.

I don’t realize my own power; I destroy those who might love me, but only because their words are insincere and I know their lies slither off their tongues like loneliness seeps out of my vast soul. Nobody is hungry enough to digest me – if only the earth and sky would take the time to understand all of my darkness, they could understand the high I bring to the shores in the tides and the bright light foam that I throw up. I have moments of calm and moments of secrecy, moments where I myself feel naked because I’ve been turned upside down without my permission; but I hardly think permission matters when I can’t I can’t see my destination or my most vital guts. That makes me scared of myself.

Sometimes I am the sky.

I hover peacefully or I spit on everything beneath me – I borrow because I haven’t the audacity to steal. I am in love with all the things I touch and so I am honest with them – I gently kiss their cheek or slide my whispered message from their fingers, toes and nose to their soul by way of their brittle silent bones and they awake in time to hear my wrath, and feel my absolute loss of control — but they know I will always return to them with a humble request for forgiveness. I weep my sorrows beside them and invite them to join, but my sorrow cannot go on forever because I feel responsible for their joy.

Sometimes I am the densest woods,

and I am overwhelmed by the fact that I am constructed by multiple versions of myself which I have created. But because I am dividual I can host anyone and everyone as there is a me for he and there is a me for she; and for each he and each they I am designed to give way so I can become the product that you need; and from my roots I will grow so high and so slow to become something that I know I was not.

And if I am the moon I will rise and set a different shape each night  because I am consistent in my inconsistency. But I know I don’t have time to know myself because I am much less permanent than all of these things — so I watch the water spray up against the rocks once more and let myself be.