I never considered myself a lot of things–
like a mother, an artist, or a poet.
Always been a rogue rebel and quite disheveled,
I knew who I was, only to stow it.
But the winds of change came howling in,
and my shelter was falling apart.
Do you know the fear when you see a storm rolling in,
knowing it will dismantle who you are–
that every nail in every board
you ever hammered in
would be ripped out and strewn about
for you to sit and face the wind?
I am a mother, an artist, a poet–
all the things I never pondered.
I’m completely lost in who I am,
but have embraced it in complete wonder.
These winds of change that feel so strange
are leaving me at ground 0.
But I know when they blow, if I choose to let go,
I can rebuild and be my own hero.