The Earth I Come From, the Sky I Reach For

My roots speak in a language

only my heart can hear—

soft, steady, ancient.

They tell me I was shaped

by hands that loved me,

by moments that broke me,

by storms that tried to bury me

but only taught me how to stay.

They are the quiet truth

beneath every step I take.

But my branches—

they burn with wanting.

They stretch beyond comfort,

beyond fear,

toward a future I can almost touch

but not yet hold.

They shimmer with possibility,

with dreams that rise like light

after a long, heavy night.

They remind me

that I am allowed to change,

to reach,

to become more than my yesterday.

I stand where past and future meet—

feet planted,

heart lifted.

I am not only what has happened to me,

and not yet what I am becoming,

but something living between.

A growing thing,

an unfinished story,

a quiet promise.

My roots keep me steady.

My branches keep me brave.

And together,

they make me whole.