you,
mother,
the one who
removed me
forcedly
from my
body, my
only home

you,
mother,
the one who kept
me in your pocket,
too small to
scream, too
small to
remember clearly

you,
mother,
the one who
stole my
voice away,
held it in your
clammy palms,
kept it as a
keepsake memory
of your
little girl,
next to good
report cards and
photo albums.

is this
what you thought
love was?

passing down
scar tissue
as if it were
a treasured
family
heirloom?

creating childhood
with your left hand,
to steal it away
with your right?

you,
mother,
the wound
that birthed
every wound
thereafter,
i will leave you
with this,
only this.

i survived
you

i survived all
that you created
and destroyed.

i can now
survive
anything.