It's Still Me

MacKenzie means Fire-Born,

and MacK, Kenz, Kenzie Polie, Pooh, Genji, Chuck,

The Oldest Soul she’s ever met,

And the Child that Never Grew Up.

MacKenzie means Granddaughter,

And Daughter, Cousin, Sister, Niece,

Waitress, Actress, Singer, Teller,

And Defender of the Peace.

MacKenzie is made of 14 years of cat hair,

And hot coffee on cold hands,

The thrill of Christmas morning,

And a hunger for distant lands.

MacKenzie is made of cedar limbs -

A stairway to the clouds

Movies by a bonfire,

And music way too loud.

MacKenzie means Sunday breakfast,

And leeches, crawdads, goats, and geese,

Pockets full of rocks,

And whistles made of leaves.

MacKenzie means trampolines,

And stars to spark imagination,

play-pretend , plastic lightsaber battles,

And online education.

MacKenzie is made of that old book smell,

And of Owl City, dragons, and dreams,

The characters that inspire,

And every silver screen scene.

MacKenzie is made of  Comic Con,

And a  hundred “Press Start to Begin”s,

The old oak house on the corner,

And all its cracks, creaks, quirks, and bends.

MacKenzie has a heart of cardboard,

And wires, yarn, felt, clay, and hot glue,

Boxes of discarded baubles,

And fingers stained with paint of every hue.

She has her mother’s fighting spirit,

And reflects her father’s face,

She still draws on all the walls,

And stays up far too late.

Forever she’s the artist,

And God’s own masterpiece,

She’s been through hell and back,

But despite everything,

It’s still Me.


This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741