I am not my job title, a role with a name
Administrator, Coordinator, it’s all the same
I am not a horse-whisperer, equine facilitator and more
I’m not even my Divine Purpose, that is just but one of my doors.

I am not your girlfriend, partner or wife
I am not your bit on the side, your frolic in the night
I am not your daughter, sister, auntie and niece
I am not your granddaughter, your cousin or great-aunt!

I am not a tango dancer, siren or flirt
I am not a writer, a creator, a muse
I am not your role model or your model to enthuse
I am not a singer, a musician or artist.

I am not a business owner or an employee
I am not a member of your team or your family
I am not a tenant with no real home of my own
I am not a pet owner, a horse rider, a horsey-girl.

I am not English, white or British
I am not from the Midlands, the once North or the now South
I am not from this town, that place or this village
I am not from Telford, Bradford or Barnsley
I am not from Shropshire, Herefordshire or the Dales
I am not from Surrey or Hampshire, from none of these places do I hale.

I am not tall and slim; I am not soft and round
I am not brown haired or green eyed
I am not my smile, my frown or my tears
I am not my sadness, my grief or my fears
I am not my humour, my laughter though I bray
I am not my feelings; they come and go each day.

I am not my pain, my aching back, my sore hip
I am not my scratchy throat or my quiet empty womb
I am not my teeth and ears, my hands or my feet
I am not my arms and legs, or the bruised bone in my seat

I am not a reader, a film lover, a fan
I am not a cook or a cleaner
I am not a shopper, a consumer of your things
I am not a car driver, a cyclist, a walker
I am not a train user, a reluctant flyer or bus-user

I am not a member of this or that
I am not an account holder, of tax, bills or VAT
I am not a creditor, a customer on your books
I am not my bank account balance; to hell with that!

All of these things are not me.
They are just aspects of my life at some point or other
But they come nowhere close to the real me
They come and go, like a passing lover

I am none of these things that you see above
Just a snapshot, a glimpse, of the one I call LOVE
For you see, I exist in a dream that is all
With a delirious wildness, I was sent from above
To take up my seat in this thing called my life.

But beneath all these things, a spirit resides
Wild and carefree, full of life
Like a galloping white horse, I race through the night
Nothing holding me back, I spin this way and that
Full of vigor, pain-free, the wind on my back.

How can you label a thing as wild even when asleep?
As free as a bird, as loving and carefree
As a whale in the ocean, I swim far and deep
With wisdom of deep knowing; THIS is me.

© Angela Dunning, 21 December 2014

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