My existence was determined

 by The supreme, The most ʰ ͥ ᵍʰ.

One that’s almighty and all-loving, 

things my biological father didn’t try…

My anatomy assembled within a woman.

(She doesn’t my know this that or the other.)

I can relate with Suess’s bird.

Are You My Mother? 

 My story is far from sad, I’m not lost, don’t you 

fret. That is only who I’m from, not where

I’m from, I lucked out of that roulette.

I’m really from two stories of vinyl and two acres of yard. I’m from two older brothers -

 both I’d never discard. I’m from a lieutenant colonel, a dad, willing to die for our nation. Like winter for a wren, he flew to Kuwait for migration. I’m from a mom who can raise three boys for two years all by her lonesome. That’s love I’ll always respect, she deserves her own poem.

I’m from two oaks, a birch, and 

some pine. From the hostas and roses 

growing towards sun rise shine.

 I’m from flipped tubes, shared meals,

 days spent well with all my

 cousins. From injuries between

 us, well into the dozens.

I’m from a family that chose me,

and have kept me nearly 18 years.

From their guidance and grace, yet

they still grind my gears.

I’m not from where I am from,

and that’s OK. Because 

I’d be damned if I wasn’t 

grateful for that every single day.