I am Brodie Bieber
I am from clothes hangers
from avocados and bikes.
I am from the green front door
and the tiles on the lawn, scattered the perfect distance leap back and forth.
I am from the big cedar tree
whose arms jutted out and legs tunneled into the ground
I am from screwdrivers and guitars
from uncle Bill and Gran Edna.
From blonde hair and horse rides
And bright baby blue eyes.
I am from memorizing 3:16
And finding God in late night songs
I am from pork chops and tacos
From dad in Papua New Guinea
And Morfar’s rock.
I am Sniffy, that ragged old dog was my light in the darkest of nights.
I am from the moments of joy, loneliness and pride
I am the places I’ve been, the people I’ve known and the lives I’ve touched.
I am from
I am from many locations.
From house to house,
Cities to towns.
Holidays claimed by each parent,
Swapped and traded like playing cards.
I am from broken love,
A marriage that never came to fruition.
Spilled milk on the carpet causing an uproar,
Apologies written in the form of a check,
Manipulation hidden so well that you can’t ever speak up against it.
I am from isolation.
In a big house all alone,
No note on the kitchen table,
No one calling the phone.
I am from frozen dinners.
Made in the dirty microwave,
Seasoned with my sniffles and tears,
Half-cold, eaten with the television on full blast to stimulate the essence of another soul.
I am from pre-determined failure.
Genetically rigged, physically and mentally.
Causing my fundamental years to be spent in hospital beds and pain,
Struggling in school due to the inability to concentrate,
Making it against all odds when no one believed in me.