I am …

This is written in response to San Diego Momma’s PrompTuesday NO. 140, Where I am:

I am a flower of harmony who starts wars on occasion.

I am a cup of hot coffee with extra cream.

I am a snow drift and a hot beach.

I am wind in my hair and wheels on the road.

I am a Chinese girl on the inside.

I am a mountain view in my mind’s eye.

I am a sleeping bag on the forest floor, a pillow made of whatever’s available.

I am aiming for the center line, the middle way, bouncing off the left and right.

I am a loud voice and a cheap shot to protect a vulnerable core.

I am a nurturer of all things and a mourner of the smallest of deaths.

I am bright red wrapped in black.

I am a reader of maps, a plotter of paths.

I am an untethered mind attached to an anchor of a body.

I am a mother of two daughters.

I am a daughter who wants to be mothered.

I am brave because I lack the courage to be weak.

I am an imperfect partner; I hoard love.

I am convinced I have art inside of me, buried under all the excuses.

I am convinced I have a heart inside of me, buried under all the ice.

I am an unfinished painting.