all this getting through
resurrections of the self.
All My Language
an offering through the weight of my words.
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returnings
words that have held, and hold, still.
the girl you used to be carried you to who you currently are
and now you must shape the woman that will carry you forward.
stop all that carrying on
let it end with you.
the more I've tried to run from becoming my mother, the more I've become her
on reiterations and familiar wounds.
you ain't supposed to be doing all that holding
lay your heavy down.
my mother never taught me to romanticize life, she taught me to survive it
I believe many daughters experience this, carrying the weight of their mother’s survival until one day they realize that they have bent themselves into their mother’s shape.
in flesh and in bone
living memory.
for as long as I can remember myself
thoughts, memory, meaning.
fragments
a heart, heavy to hold.
God yearns to give you beauty for ashes
but are you willing to surrender?