My people

You know they are your people
When they refuse to engage 
That blackened story crafted in youth
Actively carried on each morning 
Told to gather pats

You, my people, instead
Hold my head in your hands 
Collect my eyes 
Even feeble, fearful 

You show me my brightness
Dingy reflection 
But still, light 

You will know them 
When they resist the urge to look away 
As your voice cracks

They hold that gaze 
As long as it takes 
To rewrite the lines told 
With a bold ending worth believing in

When I pull that thread as hard as I can 
Only to come undone 
My people do not wrap me up 
Sheets stay folded 
They wait

They sit with me 
All gawky 
And we laugh
Heaving laughter
We are ridiculous together

You are my people 
A tribe
Tiny gang 
And I return, kindred 
Believing each of you worth the effort 
To bare all with 
To story tell with 
To pioneer and burrow with