Threads of Identity
By: Norah Obuchon
I am made from the scars on my skin
And those who have placed them there.
I am all the things I've encountered,
and all the things I've experienced.
I hold the laughter of my friends,
the arguments of my parents,
And the chattering of young children.
I am painted with the opinions of my mother
and sewn together by the twine of apologies.
I am the soil from which I was raised
And the plant that has blossomed and continues to grow.
Finding the Right Steps
We are supposed to grow, things are supposed to change.
No matter how scary the world seems, no matter how strange.
You will write another chapter, you will turn another page.
Just take a breath and take it slow.
You don’t have to know where your life’s gonna go.
When you're ready, take a step.
There’s no need to rush; you don’t have to know exactly who you are just yet.
You won’t remember today.
You won’t remember if it rained or the things you failed to say.
Today will join the long list of yesterdays, the memory fading away.
Tomorrow, you will start again.
The temporary is comforting; nothing fails to end.
You won’t feel this way forever,
I promise it will get better.