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I made cracks in a wall with my teeth
and kept the spirit of
my child in it,
and told him I will be back for him.
I am still the mother,
I fold and unfold myself
to bring forth a troublesome boy,
and this line that runs over my abdomen
is the way home.
he begs me to love him but
I am still begging Osun to pick me,
to protect me,
to guide me.
my breasts, the mountain that Muhammad stood on and called
onto his lord,
there are some things we cannot simply define,
in languages as fickle as English so we
don’t even attempt to,
because what is the best way to describe immortality than
planting a tree over your placenta.
this is how we live forever.
tell me if beauty can only be one thing,
tell me if love can only come as one way.
before there was you
there was me, your mother.
I am the curator of your destiny
the moulder of your spirit
the driver of your body.
