She is unburdened by my memory of her.
Unbound
Unvarnished
She needs to be a stranger to me.
She has her reasons.
My illiterate, invisible, original mother.
She mists her powers.
My spirit rose out of her womb.
My body followed.
(With no conscious memory of her)
I span her like a shadow self
calling out her name.
Thank you birth mother for giving me away
(to strangers)
I remember who I am today.
Today.
Today.
triumphant yet sad
a plea
a sorrow
a celebration
eliza
precious beautiful