Experience Project iOS Android Apps | Download EP for your Mobile Device

Poem: Pronouns

this is a poem that the person who used to be our host wrote. she had the body's name.  she was there from when we started school to present a consistent image.  you couldn't know about what happened the night before and go to school the next day and learn math.  so she was there.  whenever anything bad happened she was moved out of the way.  when it was over, she was moved back.  so she didn't know about the bad stuff and she didn't know about any of the rest of us.  she started to learn thngs second sememster junior year in college.  from then until we lost her she worked very hard on healing for all of us.  when we were 28, we were with someone with a similar past that she thought we were safe with.  we weren't but she didn't know that.  she was way way overworked and not ok because from when she found out about stuff, she would never go inside.  because in her mind, the only time she was inside was when bad things were happening.  so she had to stay out to make sure nothing bad happened.  but that meant she never got a break and wouldn't let the rest of us help her.  when we were 28 she went into a coma very deep inside.  when she came out of the coma a very long time later, she was in a very deep depression.  the only ones who could reach her were the healers and the priestesses.  she hasn't been out since.  well, we think she has for a few minutes at a time recently.  we miss her terribly.  except when abuse was happening (which, of course happened quite a lot)  she was out, no matter who else was out, from the time we were 5 till we were 28.  she was steady and reliable and she did everything she could for all of us.  we havent had a host since she went inside. 

anyway.  this poem was written by her.  most of our poems we don't know who writes them, but she wrote this one.  because she knew lots of things about some of us, but felt like she had no idea who she was.  that she was empty.  a shell to hold the rest of us.  it wasn't true.  but she didn't know who she was.

6:40 PM                                                  7/7/93


I am.
I want.
I need.
I know.
I like.

I don't know I.
I know you.
I know we.
I know he.
I know she.
I don't know I.

I am.
I know I am.
I am.  What?
I am.  Who?
I am. Why?
I am.  How?
I am.

We are.
I know we are.
I know what and who we are.
I know how we are.
I even know some of why we are.

I know he and she.
And he and he and she and she and she.
I know whatand who and why they are. 
But I don't Know I.

I am.
I exist.
I wasn't born and I don't live.
I simply exist.
I don't respond.
I don't feel.
I don't live.
I exist.
I am.


How do I learn I?
Does she know I?
Does he?
Do they?
Do you?

I don't know I.
-----------------------------------Storyteller '93

Thanks for reading.

TruthSpeaks71 TruthSpeaks71 41-45 2 Responses Aug 8, 2012

Your Response


what's crazy is it's all the same I, and I know it too. at the same time I know I see this ego, observe it, and it's like we have some sort of gap in perception, but we're still connected whether we realize it or not. I feel insecure about speaking openly about this. I don't even accept myself. I make myself forget, it's like I do something more like channeling and mediating if it's needed to manifest in ego form but... the real "I" is never the one with a label... it's all so confusing at times and seems self-contradictory despite me seeing no contradiction in experience... ack.

I like the way she wrote the poem, it says alot and from her heart.

thank you. :)