I am …

I am not my mother.
Or the mother before her.
I am not like another.
I am not the lies I have believed in secret.
Or the ones still screaming my name in broad daylight.

I am not defeated.

I am not lost.

I am the pieces I have gathered,
Flame tested,
made ever stronger amongst the ash.

I am the lessons I have watched
Unfold before me,
The ones that still leave
The taste of blood in my mouth.

I am battle tested,
A collection of scars,
Redeemed and made beautiful,
Over and over and over again.

I am a universe,
A love story,
Stitched together by grace.

I am relentless.
I am hope.

cswhitlow

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