Take my hand

As we walk this beaten path

That I once created many moons ago –

Back to a time of silence

Before I found my voice –

As a child, I believed in a perfection

That could be obtained and presented,

A growing gift to my parents

A living trophy for the world

Which was marveled, loved and worthy,

Comfort there was

In being a “what”

Rather than a “who” –

Until the pain grew,

Scarring me as I pushed it down with one hand

And muting myself with the other as I zipped my lips,

For years…forever it seemed,

But one day I spoke up

Breaking the porcelain mold

That encased my “perfect” existence

And one day I started growing

Like a seed who finally reached fertile soil –

Look up now

At the tree in front of you,

This is that seed, this is me

Who was once small and afraid

Yet now stands tall against the storm

Reaching higher everyday