Sometimes I want a baby so bad that my entire abdomen feels empty, and I clutch my stomach thinking of the day when I'll be old enough, mature enough, to have children of my own. But other times I think about the things I'll have to teach them. I want to teach them that everywhere they look will be hands waiting to help them up if they fall. I want to teach them that there is fruit their mouths will not believe they are tasting. I want to teach them that they will have mentors who will inspire them and show them things they're sure are too beautiful to be real.

But I have to teach them more than that. In my freshman year of college I sat in a classroom where we were talking about survivors of genocide. My professor asked us to respond to the question, "If you had experienced something terrible, something you were scared your child would one day experience, when and how would you tell them?" I watched my classmates ponder this question and wanted to tell them that I already know. This is already how I feel every time I wonder how I'll tell my children that I was ***** by someone I loved. I want them to know that I love them, that I would never hurt them, but how can they ever trust me once they know what was done to me?

They'll start to believe that love is an empty promise which will never be fulfilled. They'll learn to flinch at every hand that comes near them, whether it's a stranger's or it's mine. They'll know that even if they love someone with their whole being, it could be thrown back in their faces at any time. This is what I was taught, and it didn't save me from being *****, so I wonder how it could be different for my children. They'll have depression, anxiety, insomnia and paranoia woven into their bloodlines, and even if it skips them, it could hit their children, or their children's children, and the cycle will never end. I'm terrified that no matter what I do, no matter what I tell them, no matter how I shelter them, my children will never be safe. The world's children will never be safe.

I know that if my children are born white like me, I will never have to teach them about what to say when they are stopped by the cops. I will never have to fear that they won't come home because a policeman thought that instead of reaching for their wallets, they were reaching for a gun. If my children are people of color, I won't know how to teach them any of this because my privilege has kept me from experiencing it for myself. I know that if I have a child, I won't be the best mother. I will **** up, and I'll say things I don't mean. I'll blame myself every time they feel pain, and they'll feel guilty for bringing their pain upon me. I know my being will be entwined with theirs from the moment I know that they exist. I know it will hurt. It will hurt more than anything I've ever felt.

But if I can teach my children not to hurt other children, to respect people's boundaries and to consider the impact of everything they say, maybe the cycle can end. If I can tell my children that they have privileges that other people don't have, and that they can fight the system in place that gives them that privilege, then other mothers can feel one less moment of fear that their children will never come home. If my children know that their voices are important, that they can change their environment every time they tell their stories or encourage someone else to tell theirs, then maybe that pain will be worth it. If I can tell my children how I feel, maybe I will be the best mother I can be, for their sake, and the sake of every child in this world.

my compassion keeps me
grounded, if I didn't have that
I don't know who I'd be.
I live my life through empathy,
through story and heart and
breath, I try my best to listen more
than I speak. but it's hard
sometimes, because there's so much
that I need to say.

if I could, I'd take with me
everyone who loves me, and
I'd bring there somewhere warm
where we'd all be safe. I forget
how strong I am, that my arms
can hold in all the worry and
desperation escaping from
someone I love.

my eyes can see past the superficial
and right down into the deepest secret
place. it helps me feel more human
to help others.

but sometimes I'm scared
I'll lose myself in them, feel myself melt
into someone else's world until
I can't find my own anymore.
I bring that quiet courage here
to you, to teach you how to love
so deeply that the other person
becomes an extension of yourself,
feeling what you feel and
laughing as you laugh. finding beauty
in others helps me find
the beauty in myself.

I had to travel a long way
before I got this far. I didn't fall
into a well of strength by accident,
I had to pull it out from within
me, from a place I didn't know existed.

if I had only one thing to say, it would be
to trust yourself beyond anything
you ever thought possible. believe
your own story and the things you've brought
from your hometown to here, wherever
you've settled. allow yourself
to be as scared as you feel, but step forward
anyway.

through telling my story, I hope
that every shy kid on this planet
finds their voice, and that every
courageous mouth finds the ears
to listen.

i couldn't carry my heart
into the cold of the emergency room.
it was crumbling between my fingers
into pieces they picked up
from the floor, placing them back
into my too-small hands.

there were too many pieces
for me to comprehend the too-bright lights
and the quiet that allowed me to hear
moans and cries of the woman next to me
telling the doctor that she took too many pills
to forget the fact that all her kids are gone.

she had her stomach pumped. i needed
my heart pumped back into place
so it could feel the answers to the questions
the doctors asked me, so i could have told them
when i said i didn't want to die, i meant i was
too scared to propel myself into the unknown
like that. but i was too scared of propelling myself
into the horror of the next day week month not to try.

i wish i could have told them why my pulse ached
when it pounded through my bones. i wish
i could explain that it burst like that because
someone touched the seams that were holding
my skin together, someone poked their fingers
into the soul of me where they didn't belong
and it pierced my heart straight through,

maybe then they would have listened when i said
i needed help beyond what medicines could fix,
there was a place where i could heal and it wasn't
in the suicide room of the hospital
where i could count how many instruments
hanging on the walls i could stab myself with
despite the signs that said this room was harmless,

their concern was so misplaced
that they told me they had no beds for me, that
there was nowhere inside this building i could learn
to pick myself up off the tiled floor, they couldn't teach me
how to walk if i couldn't remember where my bones
were supposed to go. they told me i wasn't unsafe enough
to take me to the psych ward because i wasn't standing
with my toes on the edge.

i wanted to tell them, i would if only i could find it,
could locate the place where my pulse echoed
through my wrist so i could stop it from beating,
so i could keep it from punching straight through
to the ache pounding in my bones.

i wanted to tell them, if they would listen,
that i couldn't breathe in the middle of the night
and if i didn't feel safe then, how could i be safe enough
to let me into the dark of that night alone
without any bandages to repair the stitching
that had come undone while i was breaking.

what i remember about summer
isn't quite sunshine, isn't beach and isn't
ice cream or flip flops or picnics

it's the way the sunlight touches your face
as it passes over the horizon, coloring you
yellow pink orange red and beautiful

it's the freedom of dry grass
and a field we could fall into,
sweaty palm to sweaty palm

in the freedom of brighter days
without responsibility to hold us down
leaving space for us to move together

i discovered you in summer, the outline
of your body came to me in light
where i could not ignore your shape

and i didn't try, where we swam together
through apartments and borrowed rooms
trying to find out who we were

only in the gap we call summer
could i find you bold and careless
waiting for me to touch you

i want you
to cup the budding bloom
of my petals between your hands,
to pluck my stem from the earth
and bring me out into the sunshine

i want you
to clear the snow away
from my branches, to show me
the light i've missed
for far too long

i want you
to stand barefoot
in my river's flow, showing me
i'm not so cold as i once was

i want you
to climb up the surface
of my mountaintop, to feel
the pebbles between your toes
and stand atop my highest peak
so i can kiss your feet
with my rubble

i want you
to blow away the seeds
of my dandelion, wishing hard
for springtime to last
forever

some days i am as cold
as the clouds at the heart
of the snowstorm

but i know, if there were
a fireplace big enough
to house your love for me

you'd build up the flames
as high as they could go
just to keep me warm

you'd spin yourself into thread,
knit yourself into a sweater and
wrap your arms around my shoulders

you'd pour yourself into a mug
and steam yourself hot so i could
drink you down to the core

you'd hold onto my hands, no matter
how cold they got, just to see the crack
of my smile as i thaw in your arms

i want to become the rain
so that i can fall
from the greatest height
only for you to catch me
with every inch of you,
so that i fall into every
corner, so that i caress
every pocket of doubt
you carry within your bones

i want you to open your mouth
so that you can taste
my desperation, my vivid dreams
and the blood that flows
within my visions

i want you to leave
your hood down, so that
i can soak into every follicle
of your hair, so you can keep me
close to your teeming mind
full of its passions
and its wild dreaming

i want to be absorbed, to
disappear and become a part
of something deeper
all at once

to become a part of you
would be the greatest purpose
i could imagine