The clouds have eyes

They have seen through these bones of ours

Dressed with our tears and emotions only

Covered our nakedness with handcrafted rags

To hide our gifts and make friend with our now

We are the children of the river

Finding the way back home to ourselves

To reach within the voice that cries inside

Wanting to escape, to accept ourselves

But what becomes of the people who “love” us

Will their love stay after they’ve see us change,

Into who we are birthed to become?

I think of it, yesterday and now a

And maybe tomorrow too,

But I will choose me after all of it.