A collage of all the parts of me--inner and outer, roles, experiences, perceptions, written in 1991. Maybe I'll do another for 2006.

I am the reflective soul that blooms in Silence, reaches its roots in Nature,
sighs expansively at Beauty’s mirror.

I am the high energy doer
who thrives on accomplishment,
soaks up acknowledgement,
learns through new projects,
craves new experiences.

I am the daughter of a man whose faith is unshakable, whose letters call me back to Catholicism, who gives to whomever asks.

I am the mother of a son who may be called to war, an innocent young man who just wants to be a cop.

I am the mother of a daughter who, at 18, dislikes “What will you do when you graduate?” Not knowing is a weighty, wearying burden.

I am the former wife no longer welcome
to visit him with the kids because his child support was garnished.

I am the single woman whose ads reach an economist, a former Connecticut senator, a folk musician, whose search ends for a few months, and begins again,
a woman who wants no more “again”s,
who desires a committed partnership.

I am the nursing home social worker whose ears hear sadness, whose eyes see people ready to leave, but not able to, whose hands wish she could help those who want this day to be their release, their deliverance, whose words bring a smile and reason to stay.

I am the packrat who labors over boxes to sort, unnerved by decisions to save or dump, wanting to let go of the holding on, still wanting to let go, still holding on.

I am the property owner whose profits buy paint, replace furnaces, landscape yards.

I am the garage sale shopper who claps in delight at a treasure just bought,
who grins as she bargains for a yet better price.

I am the dancer who loses herself in the sensuous tango, the down home contra, rock and roll, elegant waltz.

I am a friend who says yes to spontaneous picnics, yes to “Can we talk?”, yes to park strolls, oh yes to hugs, and why not to country drives.

I am also a friend who needs space,
who may not call for three weeks;
yet my love is not a sand castle swept out by the tide-
I am a beach—moored log to sit on or lean against,
to mark your place, to reclaim your barefoot finds.

Who am I?

I am the writer who must tell you who I am, discover who you are.

I am a witness to your fear, to your faith, to your dance with the ebb and flow of the moon—driven current of Life.

Who are we?

We are simply pieces to complete each other’s puzzle.