Boats, cars, paintings
All she’s, our most prized possessions
But for me the pronoun has taken on a life of its own
A personification I am no longer in control over
She is a part of me
Seeping in through the porous skin I leave bare
Because to her I am open, vulnerable, no need for shelter
For she is my shelter, my home yet she leaves me alone, cold in the rain
She is in the claw marks marking my body
The tears streaking my face
I first met her as a light stream
And now she has manifested herself into the ocean
I was used to puddle jumping
And now I am drowning barely able to breathe
She knows all of me, for she is me
Yet her mask remains on, glued tight to the being I do not understand
If humans cannot define themselves or their lives
How do I name the fury that overtakes me
The sadness that consumes me
The happiness threatening to make me jump so high I am a balloon that cannot be caught
For now she is “she”
How does one name such a thing,
Such a lovely, lovely thing.
She has such power, I often lose sight of what I am
Who I am
Where I am
Am I lost?
Or have I just been found?