Inheritance of Voice

Father said,
There’s a way to write
The end of life—
Even when you’re still a child.

Mother said,
Go out and dance.
And when you meet your bride,
Don’t shrink—speak your truth.

But here I stand,
Like every child before me,
Learning how to live
Among thorns dressed as roses.

When it’s time to sing
A song braided with courage,
Take me to the one who made me,
And carve my name in light.