Maybe it's my fault.

Maybe when God asked me, I should have said boy.

Maybe I should have said white.

I wonder if that would have made a difference.

Our bellies are beginning to forget what laughter feels like but our eyes would always remember your faces.

You the reasons we chose girl.

You the reasons we chose black.

Are you coming to get us?

Or are you waiting for them to bring us back?

I have this bag, full of the all the things I would do if I ever return home, and forgiving you is one of them.