So which Mother do you blame?

She who endowed you with charcoal skin
Burnt by the searing torch of her womb?

She who first nourished your frantic hands & bluish lips,
Diseasing your defenseless blood,
Predisposing you to crave a leakage of acid
Trickling down, down
Your throat burning
Holes into your
Heart
Lungs
& Esophagus?

Or

She who pried open your eyes,
Sewn shut by black-singed needles,
Crossed by death’s most avid gaze?

She who placed her wrinkled hands beneath your tiny chin,
Pardoning you as your naked eyes gleamed bright,
While the masked men in all-white stood silent,
Lamenting Earth’s injustice?

While you cultivate your answer, love,
I beg of you, remember
That this fire ripping through your muscles,
These millions of molecules playing ping-
pong
In your brain,
That bitter taste that relieves
Your starved tongue --

They cannot save you,
They cannot reclaim you,
They do not know you
As I do

Every single night I beg of them,
Release you