Where I'm From
I am from obliviousness.
I am from those memories of the lie:
the lie that proved itself futile in my eyes.
The lie that held me up, then threw me aside
for a later time.
A time that I would never again allow.
I am from recovery.
I am from the memories left I cling to:
the ones I pull from my past to cherish, not deny.
The memories of the made-up stories,
of "new puppy" and "mother-daughter time."
Of new found alliance and new found friendship
from the parent (I never expected) not the playmate.
The playmate never to be requited, to my indifference.
I am from ignorance.
I am from desperately wanting to know,
but desperately cautious to learn: afraid to cope
with the disruption.
From the lie's passive tricks,
and from the lie's apathy...
Acceptance, but not closure, and distance, but not space.
The space already too small for more dismay.
I am from healing.
I am from comfort, I am from "room to breathe."
The lie has been quieted,
the ignorance has been managed.
I am from the highs, low, and in-betweens.
I am from a better view;
I can see where I'm from, but not where I'm going.
I like being here
Here, a place of possibilities and potential