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Things fall apart — and begin again.
Life, unravels me like a pulled loose thread, nudges me way too close to a steel knifes edge.
Still, you birthed me with wings, so I keep learning to fly.
I draw my eyes upwards and fill them with only sky, as reflections of us — dance through shadows in my mind.
Reaching for the origins of me, why I carry on — struggling to be free,
I must breathe because you did, refusing to let me sink —
you gracing the world with your breathing is my only blueprint.
Mother, without you — motherhood is almost too steep,
dark woods are too dense, every ache too deep.
In the dirt — I almost forget everything I know,
but my memories of you remain pristine.
If I dream of you tonight —
don’t wake me until I tell you everything I wish I said when you were alive, until I etch every detail of my boys onto your left palms lifeline,
until I see you walk hand in hand with ancestral angels into light.
I’m sure the Sun won’t mind — if I miss one more sunrise.
