I am a watering can

I am gardening soil beneath your feet and the ash handle standing stabbed into the ground as the earth around it caves in 

I am from the rose bushes in the front yard with the shiny bits of glass hiding beneath the smell of fresh soil and flowers fill my lungs 

I am from the sunflowers as they face the sun 

I am from Aunt Maria filling the large sun tea jar at the start of summer and her red hair glistening in the sun bright and beautiful

From My mother and Father 

From the heart disease and the bones frail as glass from time to time again 

From being told fighting is love and that the bruises heal better than your heart when they leave you 

I am from the baptism that told me that family doesn’t touch you wrong and that you’re dreaming and it’s okay that your uncle does this (excuses, Excuses, EXCUSES!) 

I am from the red clay Arizona where it never rains but pours when it does where I got my first feather of a hawk from my tribe and the red clay stamped into my cheeks as my father told me to my grandmother to join their community

I am from Mondays are spaghetti even when I’m allergic to tomatoes and Fridays are tacos as I pack the childrens lunches every night and give them the love and notes I wished to receive from my parents when they were too young to care 

From the empty house, my mother left me in the dark and lonely but then she came back stumbling and yelling she was yet again drunk

I am from Joseph who had clammy hands that traced my body at a young age and told me to stay quiet 

The picture frames of the perfect family hung on the wall smiling falsely walking down the hall the small decorations following behind it as you walk down every picture mom made sure we were always dressed almost the same just so she can have color coronation while her and Dad pretended the fights in the car before didn’t happen 

I am from the family of deaths tragedies and happy memories that flood one house where the roses have secrets and the sunflowers pretend.

Where the roses have secrets and the sunflowers pretend