Who Am I?
“I stood still and was a tree amid the wood.” EP, Personae
A poem is a community of voices.
Greeks in an amphitheater
listening to what they know.
At best, the I is mostly a lie,
but a lie that may tell slant truths.
I am only one eye viewing
many possible perspectives.
Never look for the poet to say what.
Hear the poem and ask what?
Hear the voice speak through the mask,
the ocean of maybes hidden behind.
You may find a bit of me there,
but you will rarely find my I.
I am not the face in the mirror.
I am not the mythic mask you see.
I am the man behind the curtain,
pay me scant attention.
I am the mirror and the mask.
You are the living reflection.
You make the lies true, or not,
lift them from low to high.
You are the part of the community
that makes mere words meaning.
You are the only I that matters.
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