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.


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