Bodies of Water

A calm Pool,
water still as a picture, not a ripple to disturb the pure beauty,
giving the illusion of solidity as strong as a glass wall.
They say she is short; she is Asian; hair black and eyes brown.
She is loud, smart, and talks much too often. She seems nice, but she could be mean.
Beckoning one to take a chance and dive, piercing through the once still water, as a thorn would flesh, creating ripples that go past counting; glass shards flying everywhere.

The lively Pond,
frogs and toads hop about, insects flit here and there. It is teeming with joyful life. The creatures swim daily in and out of the water bobbing their heads, and then rest in their safe homes; one by the bank, another in the water.
She is funny—except when she’s not. Keeping us company and hanging out with us most days. We know her quite well, in the learning environment, happy and carefree, except for the occasional whine.
She is lovable and kind, responsible and trustworthy. I have known her at her high points and at her low. I help her succeed and bring her back up when she fails. I know her home life and feelings she expresses.
A curious, ridiculous, creature—the frog—which will go all day trying to snatch the fly with its sticky, pink tongue, which will, luckily, never be his.

The chaotic Lake,
fish being caught, boats being ridden, children playing and laughing, one crying. So much action is happening all at once, swimming, standing, sitting, daydreaming, dozing, running, walking.
Sometimes the perfect day, when the fisherman catches the huge fish, but more often than not, it is the cloudy, rainy sort of day where the waves are crashing and he catches none.
I am not who everyone else thinks I am. Some things yes, but most is hidden from their eyes. I am from China, adopted at seven months old. I am an only child with a single mother.
Creativity in me shines through, taking forms of art, music, and theater. I know the things I’m partial to, and the things I’m not. I get the privilege, or curse, of knowing every thought that goes through my head; feelings that I feel, that are for no one else to feel. I know the pain and the hurt, as well as the joy and pride. There is more, of course, but if you knew, I would not be me.
So many things going on in the lake that it never thinks twice to probe deeper. It believes it knows which birds live there and fly high in the sky, all the way down to the plants that grow in the deep, dark depths of its bottom.

An inexplicable Ocean,
tranquil in some spots while a raging storm is taking place elsewhere.
It is infinity.
Different and diverse sea creatures live there, light shining on the near surface, and darkness consuming the black depths, where no soul has ever been.
Identity is not something one can pinpoint. It is not something on a map, a destination. I know they say I am short. This is my identity. I know they say I can make them laugh and am fun to be around. This is my identity. I know my favorite color is purple and what my hobbies are. This is my identity.
Time will go on—as always,
Memories will fade and grow strong again,
Feelings will go from white to black;
Identity is the same.
I do not want to know what my true identity is, for if I do, it would bring physical and emotional pain that I could not bear.
It will always remain a mystery, something you can’t quite hold, or see. You can push and probe as far as you can, perhaps having your fingertips brush against it, but it will always evade, shifting forms, and constantly flowing-
Like Water