Not a poem, not a pep-talk, nothing profound. It's just a statement: "I am here."

I am here.

I’ve been born from energy and matter and pushed forth through flesh to be held by a mother in self-questioning and a father who seeped in guilt.

I am here.

I’ve danced and sang and laughed in innocence until the world taught me that all things end and all things are not what they seem.

I am here.

I’ve stood on the hot pavement watching cars, dogs, parents leave in the flurry of forlorn and freedom flowing around quick goodbyes and my betraying eyes showing them all how much it hurt.

I am here.

I’ve walked in lonely Amsterdam airport with a small, hard and grey suitcase with no rollers marked for “The Kingdom.” Fear didn’t overcome me because it was never an option. Not then and not now.

I am here.

Holding the remnants of the person I thought I’d become and seeing for the first time I was always in pieces. Pieces that I held with patches and strings and loosely sewn threads of hope and resilience.

I am here.

A mother trying to build a world in which my own three children feel unconditional love, acceptance and are guided through the honest version of their beginnings and how the world will react to them.

I am here.

Retracing my steps to understand how my marriage is broken, my children may end up hating me and there is no one to play back-up defense when my breath quickens unable to suck in air fast enough, or when my body quivers in fatigue.

I am here.

Fending off the demons of my own self-judgment, an unexpected by-product of letting go of what other people think. It’s harsher, mine. It’s deeper and more all knowing and it holds no punches.

I am here.

Immersed in my choices and their gifts and misgivings looking at the small light within me that needs fanning from me, from love, and from acceptance I so freely give out to all that need.

I am here.

Honestly. Despite all the attempts from outside and within that have tested my will to be so.

I am here.