We inhabit mother’s womb like a house unkempt,
Campers,
Coming and going as we please.
We never cease.
She becomes this door we knock on,
Keep knocking on.
But not like heaven’s door,
We trample all over her.
Dust our feet on her throat,
Our mouths, grounded in seeing her beat.
She’s a piece.
A phone.
An apartment.
She’s milk,
‘Hello honey, I’m home,’
‘Where’s the milk? You forgot the milk again,’
Again,
And again
And again.
This woman, I sometimes wonder,
If wonder woman could stand a chance against her.
No wonder,
No wonder why she folded herself into a suitcase.
Grew numb, aboard a plane with no room for wonder woman kind of dreams.
She reached the shoreline where pitter, patterned feet said but he’s my father.
This carriage,
Has miscarried my mother’s dreams
Aborted her ambitions and birthed eternal bondage.
My brother and I sit over here,
Converse in silent verse.
We never heard the cries of sea.
She parts herself into two to make way for her offspring.
Offspring breaking the break of her heart.
My mother’s nose knows no scent of peace,
She rests in pieces of cake for peace’s sake.
Swallowing the bitter batter that billows ailing with sorrows and sorry’s
Mother, I am sorry.
A life dedicated to being. Exploring its musings in written form.