I am what I am
I am the cold rush of seawater
Gently swishing
Cradling the sand on the shores of La Coruña
I am what I am and I am the smell of chlorine on wet hair and the sound of a pen scratching on a clean page
Unfinished stories of dolphins mermaids soil and earth
piling – like peanuts

I am the willows, hunched
Watching the river Thames as a girl young enough to float free
Runs on the lawn

I am WHAT I am not anything else – I am the sour Green of a blade of grass
in the wind
I am that gentle breeze on a cool night
Those twinkling stars over the mountains
The mud on worn hiking boots
The hint of a smile
A cool glass of cranberry juice, dripping on the outside
I am the smooth White of new walls,
to be lived in

I am the white streak of jet engine I am the brief, earthy whiff of dark coffee as you rush through the airport
I am the smell of warm stew bubbling on the stove
a secluded corner amongst the miso soup and bowls of nabe
A girl at the dentist
Left her wallet at home
I am her worry I am her fear as they refused to lend her 160 yen to get home
Because she was not one of them?
I am her anger her impatience as she struggled to stand
crutches unsteady
As nobody got up on the bus to give her a seat
Because she was not one of them?

I am the years that have shaped her, the time that has taught her
I am the red glow of lanterns in a
Street, ramen shops and restaurants filling the air with their warmth
Now a
Familiar scent
– Fiona Anstey