What if I could accept myself? 
Such a simple task. 
Innocent asker,
can someone be related to disaster? 
Who am I? 
Today’s answer has journeyed so far. 
Birth’s firsts, 
hours, a lifetime
from where you are. 

What if I could just accept?

Can you tell me how you got your scars?

Am I being polite,
Do you feel fight? 
Here together. 
We arrived. 

Lost, beautifully left. 

All those who survived. 
Just accept… what? 

How did you start? 

Did you grow together, 
defining forever?

Picture perfect,
wonderful simplicity,
understanding,
how the divided, 
distantly celebrate family. 

Good for you. 
For all of us?

What is required to be me? 
The belief in what I’ve been told. 

No apologies for being sold…

on the dream of… 

what binds the broken, poor, 
to something more. 

I am acceptable.
How I worked my way here, 
is not. 

What’s wrong with my name?… change it 
with my skin… ignore it 
with my culture… erase it. 

I know, the world loves an adoptee!

What if you could whisper, “Maybe I did not understand what parenting would take?” 
How does the rescuer…
embrace mistake? 

I resemble the mess of it all.
Glued together, ripped up dreams, wrote letters, 
showed up on time for a life, that is home. 

I am the honest truth of what you see, 
Beginning’s evidence, 
documents sealed from me.

Unacceptable.

Does every question have
a final destination?