Who Am I? by Deitrich Bonhoeffer
Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As thought it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectations of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!
6 comments:
I have ask myself that so many times these days.
I enjoyed reading your post.
I use to be so different, active, outgoing, etc. now due to illnesses I live quite reclusive. Wishing that I would have done many things differently in the past. Being single for 20 years, I now wish I would have met someone long ago to be with forever, now with age I look and hope for an older companion that understands. Perhaps I should write about who I am or who I was!
I hope to return and read your link a bit slower and get deeper into your writing.
Hope you are having a nice weekend. (smiling)
Beautiful poem! Thanks for sharing, Ann!
Tell your dad that he used too many numbers in his comment to Blake's recent post. I became very confused, forgot where I was and what I was doing and but got the general sense of what your dad was saying was good and true.
Great poem, Ann. I had forgotten about that one.
Beautiful poem.... I really like it =)
Well Ann poetry tends to sail right over my head but every time I read the title of the blog I want to sing "I´m Jean Val Jean" from Les Miserable. I´m glad you´re posting again. Love you!
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