Stitched From Starlight

I was born beneath a crooked moon,

into a deck already dealt with trembling hands.

The stars said hold on, and so I did

even when the sky forgot my name.

My body has broke and mended,

a temple learning its own architecture of grace.

There were days I thought the magic had missed me,

that I was made only of what was taken.

But the truth is,

even ashes remember fire.

I have learned that cracked teeth can carry prayers,

and even flawed DNA can sing with divine defiance.

I am not what was done to me.

I am what survived.

I am a holy thing,

stitched together from pain and starlight,

still learning how to glow on purpose.