A Mother’s Monologue While Heartache Eats Her Daughter
Oh my child. What will I do with you now?Of all the things flowing
in
my
blood,
picked
you ^ this heart.
This heart that sometimes caves; an abandoned grave
After days of having thoughtless flowers laid over it.
Words spoken over it —but never asked how it is doing.
This heart collapses; embraces the soil that buries it like a lover.
Even when the lover is a heavy thing that hurts
This heart gets hurt and dresses the wound with a smile.
When disaster strikes this heart wears a Red Cross
uniform and asks who else needs a life jacket.
This heart forgets it is not a life jacket it still spreads thin around lovers
who only know how to hold it to survive never to love.
My child
there are a lot of things this heart can do
but pulling its soft parts to make a rug
for heavy feet it cannot.
I am sorry there are things words cannot teach.
Busamoya Phodiso Modirwa @Phodiso_Modirwa is a Motswana writer and poet with works published on Jalada Africa, Praxis Online Magazine, Ake Review, Kalahari Review, The Weight of Years: An AfroAnthology Of Creative and elsewhere. She is a recipient of the Botswana President’s Award for Contemporary Poetry.
Banner Art: Abstract Flowers with Accidental Shadows. A Painting by Moira J. Saucer.
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