I’m from the Catechism she breaths to the doubtless heart he feeds,

two sides of the same coin.

I’m from the thoughts dwelling in my mind,

saying hear me, not the voice of you that lives inside me.

I’m from the roots,

planted remarkably abysmal.

I’m from family and friends,

having someone seize my hand when I’m falling.

I’m from caring too much to caring too little,

there’s scarcely an in between.

I’m from not expecting to lose what I know I have,

not knowing what I have until I lose it -- compeers.

I’m from exhausting hardships,

that can be frightening, fiendish, and fervent.

--Analogously how the sun and moon rarely encounter,

my dreams are farfetched.--

I’m from understanding I need to be brave,

not for myself -- but for the commonalty.

I’m from approaching the unapproachable,

knowing what’s outside is not inside.

I’m from not only seeing the flower,
but the roots that help anchor it.