Melissa Bahle

This is not who I am

I am not concrete and obscene heat
I am damp woods at dusk surrounded by lightning bugs
and campfire smoke caught in hair
Who is this city girl? Who is this woman in charge?

This is not who I am

I am not population explosion and traffic standstill
I am quiet on the back porch with my feet on wicker rungs
and reading under the Catalpa tree smelling of purple Kool-Aid

This is not who I am

I am not dry desert air and mountain looming
I am humidity broken by rain and rolling green hills

This is not who I am

I am not JC Penney smart suit on sale and briefcase lunch meetings
I am hand-me-down jeans and barefoot solitude on a dirt road walk

I think it took me leaving to find out who I really am

You can’t know me unless you know me there