I Am
By Hilda Coleman
I am a woman of faith. I am not the strongest or happiest.
My nature comes from my weakness that fuels revival.
I am the own woman of my dreams. I am not what men want me to be.
My style is heartbreaking truth in poems, the moments that can't be
made again.
I am a writer;
I am not terrified of being vulnerable.
My nature is the knowledge I seek in order to live fully.
I am beautifully mended; I am not a broken instrument set.
I am all the lights in Los Angeles and the Bay Area.
I am not the reality TV shows in Beverly Hills.
My style is deep conversations about Dante and Hume
while sipping hot matcha teas.
I am a writer's block cocktail on a starry night; I am not happy hour
on Tuesdays.
I am a body of water with currents that tell stories; I am not a body
that counts scars.
My nature is a caterpillar, the one who has not yet
become a butterfly.
I am the words I've spoken in to existence; I am not the hateful
ones I've received.
I am a healing soul; I am not a heart that has been overcome.
My style is giving, more than I receive.
I am a flame of optimism; I am not the flame that dies out
at 12pm.
My nature is resilience in midst of devastation and trial.
I am all my hope in human form.
I am not a woman who gives up
My nature comes from my weakness that fuels revival.
I am the own woman of my dreams. I am not what men want me to be.
My style is heartbreaking truth in poems, the moments that can't be
made again.
I am a writer;
I am not terrified of being vulnerable.
My nature is the knowledge I seek in order to live fully.
I am beautifully mended; I am not a broken instrument set.
I am all the lights in Los Angeles and the Bay Area.
I am not the reality TV shows in Beverly Hills.
My style is deep conversations about Dante and Hume
while sipping hot matcha teas.
I am a writer's block cocktail on a starry night; I am not happy hour
on Tuesdays.
I am a body of water with currents that tell stories; I am not a body
that counts scars.
My nature is a caterpillar, the one who has not yet
become a butterfly.
I am the words I've spoken in to existence; I am not the hateful
ones I've received.
I am a healing soul; I am not a heart that has been overcome.
My style is giving, more than I receive.
I am a flame of optimism; I am not the flame that dies out
at 12pm.
My nature is resilience in midst of devastation and trial.
I am all my hope in human form.
I am not a woman who gives up
Hilda Coleman is a 20-year old, a student at PCC and also a writer for Thought Catalog. When she is not in school, she can dive into psychology or philosophy books for hours. Her inspiration comes from legends like Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, and T.S Elliot. She writes to live on the edge of existing beauty and in between the chaos of things. She writes to be vulnerable and to conquer the courage of her own story as a reality, not a tragedy. She believes this is the truth about writers: "we are the brave ones, the ones who take risks in love, and the ones who turn the failed attempts into rich poetry."
