So, who am I and why am I here?

That is a question I hold so near.

One question I don’t know the answer,

Gnawing away at me like cancer.

Think, Kit, who are you; why are you here!

It should be simple; it should be clear.

 

I see me in the soft spring flowers,

Gentle, low lying, shy wallflower.

But I am refusing to keep hush,

I touch this world like a paintbrush.

 

I want my art touching your heart,

But I don’t want you knowing my art.

I want my art to wash over you,

Like an ocean filled with wild blues.

 

I see me in a mighty sand dune:

Towering over just like the moon.

But I am no more than five foot four,

How am I dune among the shore?

 

Despite the battering winter storms,

Nothing changes in the sand dune’s form.

Despite the scorching summer sun rays,

The sand dunes never cease to amaze.

Everyone becomes battered and bruised,

It’s if you decide to be improved,

That will set who you really are,

Even if it leaves you with scar.

 

I see me in the newly mowed grass,

I am clean-cut and fresh, yet alas,

They see me as just ornamental.

I wonder why they are judgmental.

It is life that made them this way,

They think us girls are just here to play.

 

I want to shatter the glass ceiling.

That means I must begin by leading,

Fellow woman up, up to the top.

It is only then that I will stop.

 

Life’s merely a struggle for power.

Am I a quiet, vibrant flower?

Am I a sand dune taking punches?

Am I a fresh-cut grass viewed by judges?

 

So, who am I and why am I here?

That answer still isn’t very clear.