Delight Chilegide Olumati

When we’ve worn anger long enough,
changing into happiness
always leaves threads of rage behind.
When we quench a burning fire,
smoke lingers, uncontrolled.
When our eyes meet the ones they love,
the smirk we wear betrays us.
When we live without questioning,
ignorance meets regret.

These are all patterns.
These are representations of for.
These are proven theories of our making.
This is our existence.

The trauma left for me to inherit
has burrowed deep into my life.
Will I live through it,
or die with it?
And if I die with it,
how does the family tree
stay alive?

Our lives were made from the root of battered dreams
and broken promises dressed as parents.
If we find another answer to why we were made,
does that loosely translate to our healing?

What are we if not this pattern of caged curiosity?
What are we past this pattern we carry?