I come from a long line of mules
Stubborn as asses.
They bite at the brittle
until it breaks
or is pulled from their mouths.
There is nothing wrong
with being a beast of labor;
a creature bred for work.
A life of movement
of strength
of skill.
They pull to a new beginning
and push away from a past.
I come from a long line of mules.
Soft as their pelt
Loud as their cries
Kind enough to see you
Loud enough to make sure you hear
There is nothing wrong with being kind;
forgiving and caring.
There’s nothing wrong with being loud;
welcoming and listening.
They welcome new opportunities
and protect old traditions.
I come from a long line of mules.
None quite the same
but obviously mules.
Wielding different skills,
using different strengths.
They are adept.
They create and sometimes destroy.
I come from a long line of mules.
Stubborn as asses.
We bite at the brittle
until it breaks
or is pulled from our mouths
Strong in different ways.
Kind in every heart.
Our line is tidy and close.
Yet the reins are loose;
loose enough to breathe.
We are stubborn
but we never get stuck.
