I Am . . .

by Donna Hunter

I wrote these four “I Am” poems in September 2009 while I was a student at Tarrant County College.

A Mother

I am their mother.
I wonder if I did the best I could have.
I hear them tell me I did a good job.
I see that they love and respect me.
I want them to be happy.
I am Sarah’s Mother.

I pretend sometimes that I’m feeling better than I am in front of them.
I feel so very proud of them.
I touch their faces and hair and hug them.
I worry that I’ve hurt them somehow by leaving out something they needed.
I cry when they cry.
I am Will’s Mom.

I understand them better than anyone does.
I say, “I love you” and they know it is true.
I dreamed of being a mother and my dream came true.
I try to be what they need and not what they don’t.
I hope I’m succeeding.
I am Hunter’s Ma.

A Student

I am a student again.
I wonder where I’ll end up this time.
I hear the sounds of learning and living.
I see sunshine and blue jeans.
I want more of this.
I am happier.

I pretend I am 18 instead of 47 and did this when I should have.
I feel most of the time that things will be ok anyway.
I touch the keys of my laptop, the pages of my books, my hair while I study.
I worry about the future sometimes.
I cry when I worry about the future.
I am determined to keep moving forward.

I understand that there is always more to understand.
I say “What’s next?” and wait to find out.
I dream of a career that thrills me.
I try to plan my life, but life does not always cooperate.
I hope I succeed anyway.
I am having fun.

A Dancer

I am a dancer.
I wonder how I managed to wait so long in life to start doing something that I love so much.
I hear music and feel compelled to move to it – Country, Ballroom, Swing, Salsa, Zumba!
I see others dance well and admire it.
I want to know how to dance every type of dance.
I am happy when I dance. It is my drug of choice.

I pretend sometimes that I’m floating on air when I’m spinning on the dance floor
I feel in my element on the dance floor.
I touch lots of sweaty hands when I go out dancing, so I wash frequently.
I worry about being prevented from continuing to dance.
I cry like a big ole baby sometimes if I don’t get to dance as much as I want to.
I am a little embarrassed about that, but I’m afraid it’s true.

I understand (sort of) that it is only dancing, not life itself.
I say, “No, thank you” to slow romantic dances, until I can dance with one special man who can hold me very close.
I dream of everybody dancin’ in the streets – even all of my boring friends who won’t ever go dancing with me!
I try to fight centrifugal force on spins. (I tend to lean outward and you are supposed to stay under the lead.)
I hope there is a good band next time I go out.
I am pretty good if I do say so myself, but I want to keep getting better.

More

I am a writer, a questioner, not a rule follower.
I wonder what lies ahead
I heard footsteps; Mama heard them too.
I see my house and my life in order, clean and organized.
I want peace.
I am trying.

I pretend – no, I don’t anymore. I used to pretend I was free when I wasn’t.
I feel hope sometimes, fear sometimes.
I touch my remote control and my pillow and try to relax and fall asleep to mindless TV.
I worry sometimes, but I don’t believe in it so I try not to.
I cry when my spirit is stirred by something beautiful or sad
I am a woman after all.

I understand that the best I can do is the best I can do.
I say I am doing my best but I sometimes wonder if it is true.
I dream of everyone being happy and healthy.
I try to help.
I hope it will happen.
I am here.

About dahnajeen

I'm Donna Jean Hunter. My 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Patterson told me I was a great writer and would be an author when I grew up. She always had me read my stories to the class, and even took me around to the other classrooms to have me read to them. I'm pretty sure the other kids all hated me that year. I don't care though. I love Mrs. Patterson. Of course she did not know then about the Internet and blogging and how much of what people read would no longer be on paper when I grew up. I have had a few things published in a college literary journal, and once, for a few weeks--until it threatened to kill me with boredom and I quit--I actually received pay for working as a technical writer. But so far, I have not been able to say that I'm a writer in the sense that it is what I do for a living. I still sort of dream of that happening one day. But in the meantime, I teach high school English, and can't stop being a writer whether anyone reads it or not. I hope someone enjoys some of it.
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