By Kena James 

The sensations of sitting in the sun,

and the way it burn your build as you allow your guard to rest in the unforgiving beams, 

rays of thought.

We are often led to ask ourselves the question, who am I?

Without ever truly knowing the essence of our own being.

We search so deeply for  elements of our own individuality in other people, 

hoping 

it will make us make sense of ourselves.

Masked my by words, 

faces that are all but our own, so who truly are you?

Yet through all the tumult the only satisfaction to be gained,

is identity.

My brain grants life, creativity

Yet, baring the power of destruction 

A burden that predates my spirit

Intoxicating my vision as the years travel past me.

However, pain doesn’t define me

I am my words

I am my skin

And the endless stories carried with it.

I am the itching thoughts that live in my head

Burning their way through my lips

As a newly eroded path floods with water

 I was greeted by myself yesterday

And I shall lay being that very same being

Yet their identity lives to be uncertain 

I am Rinne

I am Fennel                                                                                                                 

Ani Kena  

אני קנה

I am who I will grow to become.