RAISING OUR MOTHERS
Here is a poem and personal narrative, a hybrid, a new thing, a child. Born of both the experiences of daughter as her own and mother as an guide to daughter. A reminder that we reflect God the more we realize and acknowledge Them, however They show up. Watch God, that's the first knowledge.
The strength to love in the face of adversity is tireless.
Sometimes I turn my tongue over and over, against itself. Finding you. Tear my eyes into a river, murky with understanding that has earthquaked. When do I remember love in the ruins? How do I keep finding myself light fragmented in your perfumed claiming of me? Inside my wandering breath, I was convinced it was trap-door. With no lock and all cement. The clouds behind eyes have been called to storm -
How does permission come to know or force freedom?
BELIEVE IN THE BREAK-THROUGH.
Daughter has to:
“Learn from your cycles as a way to serve yourself.”
Mother has been me. I understand her.
I am learning myself.
Now I can go into WOMANHOOD/FIRE
People fear of and for a womyn who heals after, and herself.
“How I wonder, can I find you in the dark?”
Trust as far as the black stretches
across your eyes and body and reality.
Though, it does not cross you.
You’ll always be seeking and unravelling as you come to agree to know yourself and accept your truths as a responsibility and rite.
DO NOT HIDE FROM HOW YOU FEEL AND EXPECT TO HEAL.
(you can’t, anyways.
can’t even begin to
love for someone
while hating pasts/
parts of yourself.)
The reason for such an intimate, exposed labor and debatable benefits. Control and lack of resource does not keep me safe or alive. Dangerous and dead women birthing nations.
How could you ask the children not to revolt? They inherit machete for teeth and hunger for their mother’s emancipation. There is no patience extended or given, in the reclaiming of nature.
LIBERTAD. ES. ABUNDANCE.
Freedom as a support to the construction of Self. Freedom is not the end, it is how we continue.
Acceptance of losing one’s chains / even
if it is an umbilical cord, withered and tethering.
And creating something after /
in the death of expectation -
Are you still holding on to the tradition of joy as secret?
The first home/country - mother knows, remembers and does.
Here lies the explanation to the answers we’ve shown each other. The things that have become our history:
I am not erasing my mother.
Our reconciliation has shown itself through separation.
She is human, as am I.
There is no need to fault anyone, although breaking is inevitable.
How else can change be?
LOVE WILL NOT COME WITHOUT ACCEPTANCE. ACCEPTANCE CAN NOT COME WITHOUT UNDERSTANDING. UNDERSTANDING WILL PASS YOU BY WITHOUT PATIENCE.
You did not decrease in value. You became the dark matter surrounding and making my Universe.