Portrait of an I

Portrait of an I

I saw the rain
pounding
on my window wall
and the leaves were melting,

gently, crying

I remember the sound of a sloshing summer rain,
the trees, the forgotten leaves
on a purple midday hour

There was an I
shrinking, sinking,
kind of not knowing or growing,
like a small plant slowly dying,
sometimes

Numerous other I’s
weren’t asking nor wondering,
walking proud,
like Panthers,
shimmering bluish black
in the midnight moon
of a desert sun
-only one I,
creates promises
all the time-

I saw an I,
myself,
most unshakeable plant,
discovering
the soaked leaves of an ash tree,
gently, crying,
in the holy midday hour

I remember the sound
of observing or inhaling,
growing and knowing,
that mine, this I,
feels constantly
breath-less.