Poem – I Am

I am
The bowl in the sink,
Smears of Cherry Garcia
dried on the rim
from your late night cruise
Through the kitchen of my soul.

I am
The shiny mirror
You gaze into so proudly
reflecting back the image
you love, but  do not see.

I am
The weed,
prickly, tenacious, taken root
where plants you have chosen
You cultivate with love.

I know
When you wash the bowl
And clean the mirror
You still will not see me.
And when you tend the garden next,

I know
You will uproot me.
Beating me against the ground
you will dislodge every bit
of nourishing earth.

But then, perhaps,
Abandoned in the compost
of your life,
Perhaps, then, finally
I will see what I really am.

©Martha Hurwitz, 8/4/20

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