Bleeding hearts and grass-stained jeans,
that is where I’m from.
While others move among nameless faces,
that’s not where I’m from.

I’m from days when no one cared
I’m from dancing in the angel’s tears,
from Earth-strewn toes and ink-stained hands,
from blissful laughter like flickering flames.

From sweaty hugs and messy buns,
from falling out of trees,
from days before impossible,
from “I can be anything.”

I’m from too young mourning,
and love from six feet deep.
I’m from words that words can’t speak,
and fighting ‘till the end.

Those tears I wept for my fabricated friends,
those sweetly haunting epilogues.
Those times I watched world below,
a guardian of the sky.

From feasts to feed a village,
from ???????? and ?' ?????,
from Yiayia’s heart and Monarch’s head,
from falling stars, and Blue Room saints.

When art tells stories words cannot,
and family stays when best friends part,
when bad luck comes from shoes on tables,
when Father saw goblins, through time he traveled.

I’m from lemon-scented tabletops,
and 5,000 mile friends.
When the root children wake up,
That’s where I’m from.