I mourned your silence
I longed for the voice that would somehow validate me
It seemed, then, that I would never really be whole
unless you saw me

I mourned your distance
and your casual contact
I accepted crumbs of you, as if that was all I was entitled to

I kept away, because that's what you seemed to be comfortable with
I lost moments with others, because, through no fault of their own,
they were orbiting you, like satellites.

It hurt because I never really mattered,
but it doesn't hurt anymore, and I don't have to be angry
The good that I am, is no tribute to you
The bad, no curse or embarassment
What I am has been whittled by life
and lovingly caressed and encouraged by God
for better or worse
I am no product of you at all