accept the weave
note to self

you’re assigned parents
and a body—no choice there
you show up on the planet—
where am I? now what?
who are these people?

accept the weave—
that doesn’t mean you
can’t snitch when your
cousin spits, reach
for college, a compelling job

or a thoughtful relationship
but resisting what’s given
will only yield anguish—
life is aching enough
without piling on more

it’s a fine demarcation
between acceptance
and submission
what you’re given is
simply a starting place

what lies before you is a
puzzle to parse—only you can
solve it—where are the corners?
are these the boundaries?
what am I?

with thanks to Susan Adelle for the title phrase

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.