I

A few weeks ago, I started writing a journal entry.

It started with “I miss…”, but that didn’t seem quite right.

Then “I feel…”, but again there was something I was trying to get at and failing to.

I realised, as I am realising now, that every sentence contained the word I.

Maybe that’s the problem. The “I”. That single letter. A single line. A single unassuming downward stroke. Innocuous, surely. It’s not like a single letter could represent the totality of the world as it arises…

And yet, I am not just a me; I am also a We. In as real a sense as any sense could be - as if the literal continuation of my senses depended on it, as it so surely does. I depend on the world, I am intertwined in the world. But that’s old news. Regardless, here’s a poem I wrote. I hope you like it.

i am the world,
as sure as sure can be.

as sure as sure,
or as belief.

in wine is laughter;
coffee beans
have focus,
so does
decent sleep.

insofar as
we sow our seeds,
we row our boats
in so far - deep.

and so it goes,
in gentle streams
we row our boats
and so our feet

stay dry…

we don’t say We - say I.
”we don’t say We!” say I.
we don’t…

we say I.