this is to the beauty in our eyes -
that many fear and many despise
this is to the mothers we love
and sometimes hate
this is to us who forget
that it only a mother who has called upon pain
and embraced it as a pleasure
to get us into existence?
this is to the milk that flows through us
over valleys of love and into oceans ever receiving
this is to the many different thighs -
they all have a different tale to tell
this is to the solitude we always yearn for
but the world needs a reason to approve for
this is to the demons we give birth to
and the angels that consume us
this is to the metaphors we are born into
and to the verbs we are limited to
this is to the locks we break
and the keys we never find
this is to the moulds we think we have to fit into
but know not that we can melt away,
we don't always to stay frozen.
this is to the fires we are made to walk in
but know not that we can vaporize away,
we don't always need to burn.
this is to all of us
who don't yet know that an entire universe lies
between these thighs
inside our eyes
flowing through the curls
gliding through the straight lines
this is to all of us
who haven't looked into another eyes
and seen ourselves
this is to all of us
who have stopped being mirrors
because we are too tired being closed doors
this is to the blood we have shed
and raised children from
this is to ending the 'trying to be'
and beginning the just 'being'
this is
to
us.
