A Space Called Mother I

Somewhere between power trip and power failure, I exist—in a cold dark place full of warmth—or heat—I dance like water at my best—like ice at my depths. I still birth.

—9:16 post meridiem, November 25th, 2018

Here, I imagine—You feel more at home in my body than I do.

I find solace in watching myself trying to be a good mother—a perfect mother—I found honor in knowing that she still only exists adorned in glittering imperfections. I see her tries—all of her attempts that lead to half actions and whole actions have thus far transmuted into You—ten toes, ten fingers—arm, leg, leg, arm, head.

—10:19 ante meridiem, Masha’Allah, November 26th, 2018

I have learned to feed you—and still, I am not yet half the mother I am to be—for I have only just begun to nourish your cries for my attention—your restless waves for my acknowledgment—your tossing and turning—your tides attempting to pull from my seashores a distant touch.

—10:53 ante meridiem, Learning to Love Again

 

Her Lawless Kingdom

These walls tremble with silence.
They know nothing of this fear.
…that fear you get deep in your gut, in the forsaken cavities of the dark part of your heart…that shaky feeling, that familiar voice which whispers “It’s you,       it’s you ripping these walls apart—you pulling down the shingles from the rooftop of our beloved home.”

The first lesson to learn about love is that there is no such thing as a final lesson to learn about love, there are only more lessons to be learned about love.

…and that I will love You throughout all those lessons!

—♥ E. English