I am what I have always meant to be;
Though my teeth and tongue betray me,
Though my hands twist knives in my back,
Though my love falter and compassion cease,
Though my utmost effort be found wanting.
There is a lion inside these ribs
Ambling about the graveyard.
I am every intention and ghostly footprint
I would have left in the sand.
I am every word still chained to my gums,
Every tear I have not shed.
I am the music heard in the empty places
Between my body and those I love.
I am always more than you see of me,
More than the expanse of my limbs.
I am forests of sycamores and birch,
Whitewashed and shedding who I was,
Becoming who I mean to be.