This is a special poem for the people I love. I have been blessed in this life to find true family. I have learned that the word truly describes a concept that cannot always be attained from your own blood. Somehow we navigate through this vast world, and find other hearts to join. These are the people we can truly love, and in turn love us. So remember to tell the people whom you love, just how you feel. Life is long and we all need reminding that we are loved.
My roots were planted to a tree.
That never fit, it wasn’t me.
A beaten, bruised piece of fruit.
Left in the field to find my truth.
I learned the word called family.
And my skin had hardened, leathery.
Wrinkled from the weight of life.
The bugs had eaten to my core.
Now just a seed, I plant myself.
A love for me, now see my wealth.
Slowly roots…they grew from me.
And up I came, from bark to leaves.
I touched onto the other trees.
I came close, and was let in.
They nurtured me, and nourished me.
I learned to love outside my seed.
No skin or fruit is needed now.
Through their love my heart, it sprouts;
beats and shakes.
Reverberations, yet never hate.
Never hurt, just calming touch.
Their branches hold me, encased in trust.
And as I learn to let go,
I accept I can move on.
To my new home, to this place.
My chosen family, you are embraced.
5/13/10 —–Preeti Pathak