SELF-PORTRAIT

Like an orchid, I need another 

living thing to survive. Recently, 

I could go on forever. Like my dad, 

my anger is beautiful, delicate, 

and easy to bruise. A holy life 

consists of failures. He tells me 

how I am finally big, smart, 

and strong. How some things are 

meant to be learned once

like the prayers he points me to. 

The formula to my sadness 

is accepting. After replacing 

dying with purpose, it’s little things 

that do most of the carrying.