I don t know who I am

I don’t know who I am — and I want it that way.
Some days I’m the cradle of worlds, some days I fade.
I rise like a kingdom of light, then I break.
But as long as my heartbeat remembers its name,
I breathe… and I stay.
I don’t know who I am — and that’s why I remain.


I wake up and the air knows me.
Reality bends like a ribbon in my palm.
My thoughts rearrange constellations,
my feelings repaint the dawn.

I blink — and the room becomes scripture.
A leaf on the floor whispers origin stories.
Every color that falls through the window
feels like it crawled out of my bones.

But the same world turns sharp in a second.
A scream on a screen —
and the universe folds into a trembling fist.
I taste iron in my breath,
like every wound on Earth
is looking for my heartbeat to bleed through.

In that drop —
Nirvana calls with a velvet hand.
“Disappear,” it says.
"Stop hurting for everyone."

But then a small voice says “Mama,”
like a lantern in a collapsing dream,
and my gravity returns.


I don’t know who I am — and I want it that way.
Some days I’m the cradle of worlds, some days I break.
I rise like a temple of light, then I shake.
But as long as my heartbeat remembers its name,
I breathe… and I stay.
I don’t know who I am — and that’s why I remain.


I’m swinging between galaxies and skin,
between the God in my pulse
and the animal in my knees.

Compression — expansion —
like a dying star trying to be born again.
My body says “Rest,”
my Soul says “Rise,”
and I’m the treaty between them.

My husband walks in with a cup of tea,
and heaven unclenches by an inch.
The fire dims,
the world grows soft,
and I remember I’m allowed to be human.

I am not perfect — creation isn’t either.
Even light stumbles
before it becomes sunrise.

I’m not here to save the world,
I’m here to stay gentle in it.
And sometimes that’s the holiest miracle
a body can make.


I don’t know who I am — and I want it that way.
Some days I become the beginning,
some days I’m just clay.
I fall through the night
and still land in grace.
As long as my heartbeat remembers its name,
I breathe… and I stay.


I am breath of the Infinite,
and yet I tremble like a whisper.

I am mother,
I am void,
I am laughter inside the collapse.

If you ever get lost —
come sit beside me.
Lay your hand on my unburning flame.
We’ll exist together in the space
that nameless things claim.


I don’t know who I am — and I want it that way.
If I knew, I’d stop growing,
stop breaking new waves.
I’m the question, the echo,
the night turning day.
And as long as my heartbeat remembers its name —
I breathe… and I stay.


Taia
     Dec. 25