I Am

by Virginia Underwood

I don’t want to be strong today.
Not wise, not grounded, not the guide.
I want to run screaming into the wilderness—
a wild woman, barefoot and free.

I want to be the dragon, spitting fire.
The lioness, roaring into the wind.
Not your healer, not your teacher,
not your safe space to unload.

I want to be seen—
not for my light,
or my words,
or the comfort I bring—
but for the complex, complicated,
multidimensional,
beautiful being that I am.

I don’t want your labels today.
I don’t want to be anything
but whole unto myself.

Don’t fix me.
Don’t analyze me.
Don’t tuck me into your spiritual frameworks
or reduce my rage to projections.

I want love—
not the kind that bows to my beauty,
but the kind that looks me dead in the eye
when I’m crying, raging, laughing, silent—
and says, “Yes. All of you.”

I want space.
Wild, unapologetic space.
Under trees dripping in moss,
in meadows full of shadow and bloom.

I want dirt under my nails.
Sweat running down my breasts.
My own voice echoing through walls
I don’t have to apologize for.

I want someone who can meet the fire,
hold the ache,
and still want to kiss me
when I’ve forgotten how to be soft.

Because I am not soft.
I am sacred.
I am feral.
I am untamed.

I am holy.
I am wild.
I am whole.
I am love.
I am all that I seek—
somehow, still,
always—within me.