Grounds to Claim

‘Tis but a flame in the darkness

The pitter patter of my stride

Bobbing up and down, growing but

An inch, closer to the world

Green, with speckled tones of fire

A comforting reminder of home

It is funny how there are universals

Even if you have only been here

For a moment’s time.

 

 

A speck of this life

Four years, where you try to be

The adult you were made to think you are supposed to be

Home, is but a concept, no longer

Tangible, or in reach.

Home, is here, a place for which

I am a stranger,

In someone else’s story,

Someone else’s world.

 

 

For they have been here for longer

Thus, they must have a larger

Claim on the grounds

Yet, still mine.

Mine.

This place, characterized by a

Vision held by someone who

Would wince at my

Contributions.

 

 

For a woman surely

Cannot do this.

Yet, here I am.

Claiming stake in a narrative

That is not mine.

Is it my purpose to

Exist as a contradiction?

 

 

Look up, at the flame.

Look up, at the world that is

Forming just before your eyes.

It is yours.

Yours.

This place is yours.