I am from morning light. . .

A surprise―but a miracle in its own.

I am from a beautiful smiling face, a warm beating heart.

Warmth too soon turned to cold. . .

I am from the rug stripped from beneath my feet,

Almost forgetting all of the love I have been told.

I am from his eyes, that face that always appears in my dreams,

And the rice she always cooked.

I am from the King of Knowledge and Everything,

From You are loved, and She would be so proud.

I am from broken bottles and bloody limbs,

From hitting rock bottom and still determined to start again.

I’m from burning bridges in the past,

From watching my life go down in flames

Only to be tamed, rebuilt, keeping my head held high.

I am from scraped knees and bruises, but never refusing to continue the adventure.

I am from many moments,

Letting myself go,

From giving and giving and wanting nothing in return.

I am from all of the memories shared,

The photographs that captured moments I will never relive,

But will always remember.

I’m from him, from her, from them.

But most of all, I am from me.