A POEM FOR ME (AND I GUESS YOU TOO)

I am loved.

Not by a husband or a boyfriend or even from a mom and dad, but from friends, from aunts, cousins, an uncle, a teacher or two. It has been a village. 

I am wise.

Not from a college degree, but from pain and sorrow and from standing tall to tell you all. 

I am beautiful.

Not from Hollywood standards or my father’s, but from my eyes and what some friends and lovers direct me to see. 

I am rich.

Not from owning a house or a two bedroom condo in the San Fernando Valley, in which I do not, but I am because I invest in me. I am able to feed my hunger, not merely food but means for a better life... in which I truly hunger for. 

I have been through loss and hardship. 

Abuse and deception. 

I guess I am a victim, a fighter, a warrior, and a survivor.  

I’m shy.

So I observe. 

I’m sad.

So I absorb.  

I do not know why things happen the way they do. 

But I exist within it all.

I exist to tell you all.