I Am... (a prose poem)

I am an enigma. A vault of secrets. Pandora's box.
I am unique. Inside of me a cavern is crowded with whispered messages and warnings not to tell.
I am filled with fear and sadness and anger, but at the bottom, crouched down by my heart's wall, I have hope.
My head is a tumultuous sea. Thoughts rage around. Crash over each other. Break apart and reform. Wash upon reality and pull grains of it back, in to be tumbled around.
But always inside of me there is music. A haunting melody. A joyous melody. A loud song. A Scottish air. A bass line. A drumbeat. An orchestral climax. A gospel voice. It echos around...

Je Ne Suis Qu'une (I Am But One)

This is a poem I wrote in French class, yay!!! The translation is below.....

Je veux être toute.

Tu ne peux pas souffrir être.

Tu est une mille trucs.

Tu as pouvoir.

Je suis qu'une.

Je ne veux pas pouvoir.

Tu es brillante avec la vie.

Je suis faible.

Je t'aime.

mais tu es une océane

et

je ne suis qu'une fille.

I want to be alone.

You cannot bear to be.

You are a thousand things.

You have power.

I am but one.

I do not want power.

You are bright with life.

I am dull.

I love you.

but you are an ocean

and

I am but one girl.

9/11

They ask me where I was.
I don't know.
I don't remember.

No world of mine
came crashing down.
No urgent messages on the scrolling TV line,
no sadness in which to drown.

Was I aware?
No.
Was I young?
Yes.

I've seen the videos.
Endless videos.
Heard the stories,
watched the news,
remember and mourned.

But does my heart weep?
behind a two thousand mile shield...