The sum of my trials and mistakes added up to the painting of my life.
I became an orphan too soon and grew into a motherless daughter.
When the errors of my life emerge to haunt me, I call out to my mother,
wishing she would answer and then I sit quietly in the dark to listen.
I took a razor to shave my head as a self revolution and stood in the mirror,
like a warrior who didn’t know what she was fighting for.
I grabbed my own hand one day and said I was more than enough,
and buried my insecurities by a lake so it can be swallowed by the earth.
I didn’t see my own beauty because I didn’t have my mother as a mirror,
I looked for myself in books that felt like home and the last page always left me, lonely.
I loved a boy who was never meant to stay yet his love changed me,
so I still pray for his happiness and contentment.
I’ve learned to stand up for myself but sometimes I hit my head when I stand abruptly,
so I had to learn to stand up gently and sit down a little longer when need be.
I have lost mother, father, self, romantic love but what hurts the most was not knowing,
who I was and where I left myself to rot. I had to go looking for myself to find me.
The roads that I’ve taken have led me to wonderful destinations but at times,
it hurts to think of the roots I had to abandon and the ones that left me.
I stood on a hill, lungs filled with gratitude and my mind filled with wonder,
from the places I’ve been and for the places I’m getting to.
I had to accept the soothing grace of humility through the irritability of my ego,
to love when there is anger and to forgive when I felt righteous.
Everywhere I’ve been, everything I’ve eaten, all the choices I’ve made,
all the love I’ve given, all the love I’ve received gracefully,
all the falls I’ve had, each time I’ve stood again,
all the hurtful words I’ve spoken and burned myself with,
the offenses committed against me, the peace offerings I’ve held in my heart,
each day since the day out of my mother’s womb,
all of it, is my life. All of it.