My mother comes from the earth,
she comes from moss, from dirt,
from loam, from deep roots.
she makes beautiful things from the simplest of beginnings,
From soil and seed, comes fruit,
her hopes, her dreams, her ambitions.
She turns manure into blossoms, ugliness into beauty,
options into opportunity.
My father comes from water,
he comes from ocean, from riptides,
from currents, from salty spray.
When the white caps are crashing over him, he perseveres,
unfazed by the storm, he faces his troubles head-on.
He comes from sailors, swimmers, fishermen, mariners,
ceaselessly stitched to the sea,
simultaneously searching for both freedom and discipline.
I come from earth and from water,
I come from deep roots and from riptides.
I come from softness and from stoicism.
I come from my mother and from my father.
I am also from myself.
I am from where I have been and where that allows me to go.
I am from strength in the hardest of times.
I am from love.