The Dragon

Is this what it means to be a dragon?
To hold fire in your lungs?
To burn, to wholly consume oneself?
To choke on your own ash and smoke?

Is this what it is to be an island
half drowning in the sea?
To rally against the ocean
as you fight to lift your feet?

Is this what it is to be a raven?
To be hurdling toward the earth?
To be fighting a war with gravity?
To be struggling in tyrant winds?

This is what it is to run--
to seek, to fly, to fall, to ache,
to burn, to bleed, to cry--
to find solace in the pain.

This is what it is to be home--
to feel your heart, your head, your lungs,
to live your whole life in a moment--
to live your whole life for the run.

This poem is about: 
Me

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