When you are abandoned by both parents, orphaned, adopted, fostered, you are robbed of a family tree.  If you are lucky you can be raised by someone that consciously helps to create one, but if not, you are robbed of the concept, the base for being, the foundation of life.  The tree of life, a history, a connection to a past, something tangible in an ever changing world, to hold onto. This is why there are gangs.  A group of souls attempting to create a family, a framework, a foundation of love, we got your back, a place, a sense of belonging.

What is a tree of life, a family tree?  Where do I come from?  What influences and circumstances brought me here?  Like a tree sapling severed from its roots, how do I grow?   How do I keep from dying a little each day?  How do I grow new roots?   How do I survive?  Some who are bandoned do, many don’t.  Smiles, brillance, cleverness, keeps the abandoned one alive, and it looks like its going to survive,  looks like it will thrive, but at its core a crushed spirit remembers it is separated from source.  The severing is severe, its a shock to the soul that is never seen.

When you are abandoned you are a commodity to be loved or used as a bargaining chip, a servant or slave.  No matter whether an abundance of love is showered upon you, or neglect, the potential for survival is still marginal at best.  What does it take to survive? Shear grit and an unshakable desire to live, to fulfill one’s destiny, to leave a mark, a stamp, a legacy, that says “I was here.  I survived.  I made a difference.”

Maybe I didn’t grow roots and maybe I didn’t have a family tree to leave behind, but my survival is a gift I give myself, a light of love that will shine in the dark and make a difference.