42 years to the day

I was squeezed through my mother's birthing canal 

Into the hands of my father

I was granted a body 

With overseers

Brought through the same ritual 

 

The following month was a month of rain 

One that would hold the record for decades 

So the stories that I was told

 

I've always listened to the stories 

Each story shared 

By each of you 

And by many others 

Have shown me the abundant beauty of our lives

Whether the story is with a tear or with laughter 

I've realized that all life shares in the same ways 

And the only thing that separates us, are the walls that have been built around us 

While only seeing what someone else has told you to see

It is comfortable in the box

Only, the box has been set on fire!