I am the daughter of well-intentioned people
Who performed the rituals of good children
And struggled with the notion of parenthood
I am the daughter of a family gone mad
With the lunacy of reproduction and magic
Born from star seed and grown with mead
I am the daughter of a millennia of trauma and evolution
Rebellion and righteousness
The daughter perpetually between three worlds
Wondering how to straddle them all
Faking grace and resilience
Humor and passion
I am the rug-rat that fits in with the vines
Those that sprout from the side of brick buildings
And in the negative space of chain link fences
The heart that beats along to songs that don’t exist
But won’t quit until they do
I am the daughter of art & chaos
The child of irrationality & determination
The black sheep of me… A Lost Boy
I am the daughter of a story so wild it’s never been told comprehensibly
I am the woman
Who eternally feels like girl
Like wind, fire, water… but never earth
Never grounded
The woman who feels too old to feel so freshly foolish
Unable to exist in ease
Yet managing to find just one more reason to stay alive
Every time I run out of reasons
I am my daily reminder that the world sings as beautifully as I imagine it does
That problems are so much lighter in the reflection of a lake
In the chaos of a kitchen
(With people cooking without recipes)
In the warmth of an embrace
In the sound of belly laughs
In the sound of a caring voice on the phone
(Asking why I haven’t been online lately)
In the sight of a friend
In the sight of “I miss you… I love you.”
I am the daughter
Who dares to be the rich aunt
And doesn’t care to birth children
I am the daughter, girl, woman
Doing my best
Giving myself permission to rest
Resisting grind culture
Taking pride in tapping out
I am a divine being… and it’s okay that I don’t know how to end this. I have given up on perfection, chaos is abstract art.
