The History of my Face

This is not my typical medium post because I actually wrote about this poem, but in the context in my life.

My eyes are brown like my moms. They hold fierceness and power and determination. They have the strength to overcome poverty and create an amazing life for my children like she did for me.

But my eyes are lighter than hers. My eyes hold tints of hazel and gold like the fleck in my dad’s eyes when the sun hits them just right. My eyes are playful and creative. They light up when I laugh and help me to see joy in every situation that I am in like he does.

My cheekbones are high like my mom. They are stubborn and strong. Even when I feel like there is no one to catch me, they don’t fall.

But my cheeks, they’re pink like my dad. They get red when I am embarrassed and rosey when I am overwhelmed. They somehow are always pink just a bit, reminding me of the sunshine.

My smile is wide like my mom. It parts and shows my teeth even when I don’t mean for it too. My smile is joy and my laugh and serenity, loud, recognizable, and happy, like me.

My laugh is big, but my lips are small, like my dad. They are dainty and mysterious. And you never know if I am going to scowl or laugh when they twitch.

My face is me. My face is joy and pain and love and hate and determination and failure. But my face is also the people who made me. It is their loves and losses and quirks and insecurities. I become an amalgamation of people who have created and shaped the people who have created and shaped me.