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Poem
YOU   ARE   MY   SENSE   OF   SELF

You are my view from on high, looking down at the landscape,
Where I am a field among a continent of fields,  all growing.
You are me, standing outside the window looking at my life,
As another person would do, as a judge,  a referee, a teacher.

You are responsible for allowing me to be contemplative,
Standing  still, admiring the beauty and commitment I see in people:
For most people are devoted to someone or something,  and try
To be better for that reason, and get up each day for that purpose. 
But, while seeing goodness  in every man,  I am aware that evil exists 
And must be guarded against, for once it enters it is not easily evicted. 

You are my sense of self making me go cautiously through life
With care for others and for the fields we neglect  so badly,
Seeking peace with every person,  without personal surrender.

You make me reflective: and so I am able to see my mistakes  -
And God knows I have already  made enough to last a lifetime.

You have taught me introspection  and how to understand myself 
And in so doing I have learned how  to  understand other people;
And how to see the importance of some things and triviality of others;
And  how to appreciate my children and their friends and  their lives; 
And my wife and her loving help and encouragement and strength;
And  the cop standing on the corner in the rain   -   watching;    
And the neglected kid in the back row who has no homework done;
And the guy on skid row bumming a few cents for a cup of coffee;
And the guy born in a stable in some no-place little field ages ago;
Because all these people are  part of me.   I am no island far off the  coast.
I am part of the continent of mankind, and am thankful for it.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .
Written  for  Paula Swanson’s  Contest     WHO AM  I ?
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