I am passionate,

A fire burning wild when stoked

And set loose.

I am kind,

A blanket around frail shoulders

Protecting from the wind.

I am shy,

The silence between the question

And the answer.

I am creative,

A worn box of dented pencils

Beside a new sketchbook.

I am expansive,

An infinite piece of the sky

Caught in a bottle.

I am damaged,

Physical and emotional scars

Layered on skin and nerves.

I am raxeira, 

A line drawn on the floor

By sunlight filtering through a window.

Some lines are straight,

Some are curved,

Some wiggle with shadows.

All change place and shape as time passes.

The sun runs its path,

And still they hold their course.

Over the floor,

Over the furniture,

Over the people who

Come and go from the room.

All are drawn by the light

And are renewed at dawn.