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Patchwork Quilt

My daughters eyes, the smile of my son,
I wonder where these things come from?
My stringy hair, my gap toothed grin,
did a little of my past slip in?
Is it Grandpa's wit, or Auntie's love,
or does it all just come from above?
I wish I knew how I came to be,
this person who is known as me.
For if I never know who I am,
how can I pass it down to them?
The things that make my children what they are,
seem to come from so far.
Away and from some distant land,
on whose ground I hope someday to stand.



Never Quit

There is nowhere to hide on this rollercoaster ride.
Self discovery is the goal you see.
And day to day, as the layers peal away.
We begin to find, what was left behind.
They can seal the files, but all the while.
We will still want to see, how we came to be.
They can say forget, but we won't quit.
Until at last, we own our past!



Definition

Lay the cards on the table, show me the hand.
No stalling or bluffing, I know that you can.
Brink light to darkness, illuminate me.
Unlock the door, you hold the key.
Give me the clues and the mystery is solved.
You have the power to make brick walls dissolve.
You hold the answers to eternal questions.
Let me offer you just one suggestion.
Give us our lives back, the truth that we need.
Stand not in our way, and do not impede.
On our right to know, our history to have,
and be able at last to define who I AM!



Erased

An empty blackboard stands alone,
they erased who I was and gave me a new home.
Liquid paper where my life used to be,
how could they take that away from me?
Did they really believe I'd never question,
what they gave me as a definition
of the person I was supposed to become,
and never look back on where I came from?
Where does one really draw the line,
on how much past you can leave behind?
They expect of us what they themselves could not do.
Despite what they say, I am searching.
Wouldn't you?



By: Karen Joiner





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