I stand first guard at my own gate,
For a hollow cup can’t share its weight.
I tend my fire, I breathe, I see—
If I fall apart, none lean on me.

Next, my father—roots and ground,
The steady pulse, the first safe sound.
I hold him close, repay the hand
That once taught me how to stand.

Then siblings follow, blood and thread,
Shared pasts, the tears we never said.
Not first, not last, but bound by name,
Different paths, the same old flame.

And friends come after, chosen kin,
Who walk beside me, not within.
I give them light I can afford,
Not borrowed strength, not broken cord.

Care moves outward, ring by ring,
Like water when you drop a stone in.
The core held firm, the rest can grow—
That’s how I love, and that’s my flow.