#background - Hello Poetry

I am from a loneliness That I no longer claim. I am from a gift of God— Call it luck if you want, the kind Of luck that saves, and ever since that Ripe-old age of one I say I am from Colorado. I am from a father that couldn’t stay. I am from a mother who couldn’t. But they are not important. To miss them, they’d have to be real to me, Not Goldilocks, not Cinderella, not Little Red Riding Hood— Not a fairy tale. No, the important part is this: I am from two parents who went through hell and Prayed to God that they could do better, and did. I am from two parents who did their best, But their best was not always good enough. I am from two parents with worn-down, stomped-on hearts And still they kept on beating. And still they kept on beating. Everything came down to this— Everything came down to me. But I am not a Lego flower built of blocks, Generations of too-bright, too-wide, too-tight smiles Meanwhile both hands in a bear trap. No, I am a flower grown up from the dirt. I am the blood rushing through me every time I put Pen to paper. I am stubborn softness, smart and stupid, everything and nothing. I am what I longed to be and what I feared becoming. I am an ocean, the deep blue fading to dark. I am an open book written in code. But I hope one day, dear God, I hope That one day I’ll be brave. One day I’ll stand on solid ground And find a hill worth dying on. I want a home with a willow tree, A house built in the branches. I want two kids to chase around, walls Filled with laughter and messes and warmth. And God, I want to hear my footsteps On the floor of a courthouse, briefcase in hand. I want to be something, I want to be someone And heaven knows that is what I will be. A mind like a mess, just a tangle of thoughts, I am everything that I ever loved, lived, and lost.

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Aug 18, 2025

Aug 18, 2025 at 7:09 PM UTC

mjsayshey

I Am From

I am from a loneliness That I no longer claim. I am from a gift of God— Call it luck if you want, the kind Of luck that saves, and ever since that Ripe-old age of one I say I am from Colorado. I am from a father that couldn’t stay. I am from a mother who couldn’t. But they are not important. To miss them, they’d have to be real to me, Not Goldilocks, not Cinderella, not Little Red Riding Hood— Not a fairy tale. No, the important part is this: I am from two parents who went through hell and Prayed to God that they could do better, and did. I am from two parents who did their best, But their best was not always good enough. I am from two parents with worn-down, stomped-on hearts And still they kept on beating. And still they kept on beating. Everything came down to this— Everything came down to me. But I am not a Lego flower built of blocks, Generations of too-bright, too-wide, too-tight smiles Meanwhile both hands in a bear trap. No, I am a flower grown up from the dirt. I am the blood rushing through me every time I put Pen to paper. I am stubborn softness, smart and stupid, everything and nothing. I am what I longed to be and what I feared becoming. I am an ocean, the deep blue fading to dark. I am an open book written in code. But I hope one day, dear God, I hope That one day I’ll be brave. One day I’ll stand on solid ground And find a hill worth dying on. I want a home with a willow tree, A house built in the branches. I want two kids to chase around, walls Filled with laughter and messes and warmth. And God, I want to hear my footsteps On the floor of a courthouse, briefcase in hand. I want to be something, I want to be someone And heaven knows that is what I will be. A mind like a mess, just a tangle of thoughts, I am everything that I ever loved, lived, and lost.