'I Am'
Not a boy, but a storm with skin.
I am torrential rain, a collapsing
a down-pour of life undone, a schism of floods, living water, a death, & a rebirth after a ten-month drought.
I am sleet, disheveled, heavy, a frenzied tapping
frozen fingertips against snare drums echo within shockwave rhythms after a ten-month drought.
I am pouring,
ingraining caverns of joy, & pain
through broken dams —
cascading into forest fires leaving
only ash.
'I am, I am.'
I am the black sheep, and the sun's warmth on your cheek, drying your tears after a long winter's bite.
I am dying tree branches determined to rip down the skyline, stitch-by-stitch.
I am the Phoenix rebirthing in scarlet, enraged.
I am the fists through Earth's many graves.
I am the Black Phoenix that never rises, rotten.
Eyes sunken, a gaze that still hits as a brass-knuckled fist
~
a thousand faces, they all look the same, in a thousand voices they speak my name.
A thousand words — one lie
like a storm
I do not hide
feel me in the air.
tripping electrical currents,
& blackening clouds
brewing over,
the darkening, and the sea,
raindrops beating windows
like fists smashing bones.
mind my energy,
hurricanes, tornadoes, whirlwinds,
swirling tailwinds underneath skin.
Though I've never seen it before
I've fathered a soul, so apocalyptic
Born by war,
continuously hushed
by the hands of others, so frenetic
Growing with age,
anything trapped eventually becomes unchained ~
My soul is cryptic
but when the storms have
ceased their weeping,
& my lightning has
left scorch marks of the Earth - a story.
I hold the gentleness
of a summer breeze
in my hands.
The calmness
of Heaven's seas
in my heart.
One Angel, or One Devil,
never far apart.
'I am, I am.'
a loose-thread tear right through the fabric of reality.
——
I keep trying to find my footing,
the walls are made of glass.
Trapped, here, in the enmity just teetering
over the gap.
By: Ashton Conor Amstutz
May 28, 2023
May 28, 2023 at 8:14 PM UTC
'I Am'
Not a boy, but a storm with skin.
I am torrential rain, a collapsing
a down-pour of life undone, a schism of floods, living water, a death, & a rebirth after a ten-month drought.
I am sleet, disheveled, heavy, a frenzied tapping
frozen fingertips against snare drums echo within shockwave rhythms after a ten-month drought.
I am pouring,
ingraining caverns of joy, & pain
through broken dams —
cascading into forest fires leaving
only ash.
'I am, I am.'
I am the black sheep, and the sun's warmth on your cheek, drying your tears after a long winter's bite.
I am dying tree branches determined to rip down the skyline, stitch-by-stitch.
I am the Phoenix rebirthing in scarlet, enraged.
I am the fists through Earth's many graves.
I am the Black Phoenix that never rises, rotten.
Eyes sunken, a gaze that still hits as a brass-knuckled fist
~
a thousand faces, they all look the same, in a thousand voices they speak my name.
A thousand words — one lie
like a storm
I do not hide
feel me in the air.
tripping electrical currents,
& blackening clouds
brewing over,
the darkening, and the sea,
raindrops beating windows
like fists smashing bones.
mind my energy,
hurricanes, tornadoes, whirlwinds,
swirling tailwinds underneath skin.
Though I've never seen it before
I've fathered a soul, so apocalyptic
Born by war,
continuously hushed
by the hands of others, so frenetic
Growing with age,
anything trapped eventually becomes unchained ~
My soul is cryptic
but when the storms have
ceased their weeping,
& my lightning has
left scorch marks of the Earth - a story.
I hold the gentleness
of a summer breeze
in my hands.
The calmness
of Heaven's seas
in my heart.
One Angel, or One Devil,
never far apart.
'I am, I am.'
a loose-thread tear right through the fabric of reality.
——
I keep trying to find my footing,
the walls are made of glass.
Trapped, here, in the enmity just teetering
over the gap.
By: Ashton Conor Amstutz
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