Heather K. Vaughn

I’m from seventh generation Florida sand Embedded in my DNA, women ancestors That believed That went mad That birthed more daughters Until there was me

I’m from two runaways whose story Became my story, my albatross, my phoenix

I’m from be seen and not heard And grin and bear it And mind my tongue And sacrifice And abuse lived in silence, not everyday But enough

I’m from Henry VIII’s made-up religion Practiced through the BCP A home of sorts, for me.

I am from unexpected gifts From Charlie who became my grandfather From Nebraska who took me in From A-B Tech who believed in me From the writers whose words kept me company and taught me Everything

I am from the night I met joy for the first time

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When he decided to untie my shoes When he waited nine years for me to become me When I learned what unconditional love really means

I am from a different night at 8:55PM When I refused my ancestors’ help and haunts and to spite them Gave birth to not ever one of their own Someone different, her own, whole, and dear

I am from expectation, mostly With some hope With some patience Baked into my origin story

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