Existential

How many times in life can one question their own existence?

Who am I?

Young and new to the world

accepting myself as me.

Child of woman, child of man.

Brown and girl with black in mind,

Black in heart, black in line

but light hovered over me, sun kissing

my dreams.

Where am I?

In a home received gifts of love and joy

pain and fear.

Poor Joneses did not catch up to Joneses

but we always had food to eat,

a bed to sleep

and clothes to wear.

What am I… to do?

Molded by momma’s learned hard lessons.

Taught societal structured courses,

tested by penny paid teachers.

Exploring my abilities.

I learned,

I applied,

repeat.

I stumble over a pebble and fall

I stumble upon what makes my heart speak.

Stuck in the mud, then distracted by the cleaning off the residue.

I've forgotten the reasons why the desire to walk occurred;

or looking around, I get lost looking for more of what makes my heart

speak.

When do I become?

After misjudgments of character,

misguided information,

mistakes of proper self-care,

rejection and heartbreak.

Disappointment

be my true self before all ends.

Why?

Why such a maze, such a puzzle to solve?

Existing,

being,

molded and shaped,

taught and re-taught

then repeated all for a new generation to go through the same

routine.

Just the result of God’s mind roaming.