I'd rather die in a distant ground than return home,
A home that undresses me of my dignity
Home where I discovered that your brain can design your funeral before death arrives for your body.
I will roam like a wanderer and feed off scraps,
The wind can lick my skin or have it.
But here we have dandelions in spring and the buses do not come on time but they come eventually,
and adulthood drizzles with thunder but I'm used to storms now.
When life happens to me
I hope I am laid up with freedom
and not in so much pain.
Bury me in your arms Mother,
In this place, children who are tired go to sleep
Hold me as I return eventually
from the war, you birthed me for
Say welcome my soldier girl
you fought generously
rest now,
Make my spirit soup and stroke my hair
In another life maybe there's nothing that ruins a woman’s body here
and my scars are from falls and slips
and we don't pretend in our house that victims should learn the language of forgiveness when the abusers do not voice out their apologies.
© Hope