My family
Is a bouquet
Of sunflowers
On the graves
Of my unfinished poetry.

I
Am a single rose,
Learning
How to wrap foil
Around my thorns
So that I don’t prick people
When they reach out to me.

Today,
I watched my house
Shine with joy
And glee
As my younger cousins
Ran across my living room;
Chasing the last bits of freedom
At the edges of their fingers.

Me, a passive bystander-

I marvel
At the ease with which
Our collective breathing
Seeps into the cracks
And corners
Of our aging apartment.

We
Are one
In our differences,
Teaching ourselves
And each other
How to bloom
From concrete.

We
Fall apart
And come together,
Fight and mend,
Rebuild what we’ve broken;

Just like the waves rise and crash,
And opposite poles attract each other,
And our planet waltzes out of control
between galaxies,
We will always find our ways
Back to each other.

Today,
I could choose to write about
10 things that help me get through tough days,
Or
I could write about the way
My hands shake after I publish
Each new poem.

Instead,
Today, I choose to write
About the way
my brother’s eyes light up
When he sees my father
And the way
My sister spends hours with me
On call
Because she knows the voices in my head
Are cruel.

Today,
I choose to write
About the beauty
Of human connection
And this perfect tapestry
Of imperfect people
I have grown
To call my family.