my mother always tells me i'm too sensitive
her childhood and the experiences throughout her life
shaped her to be tough like weeds growing in a garden
not quite supposed to be there but no matter how hard you try to pull them out
they always find a way to grow back

you see, i'm more like a shard of glass myself
lost in the ocean, a little rough around the edges
but softened with every wave that crashes over me
until nothing but a sliver remains

i come from a line of women who paved their own way into this world
they were born with a fire to survive so bright
it managed to light entire generations up until this point
passed from grandmother, to mother, to daughter, to -
wait a second, it's supposed to be my turn now

i close my eyes and try to visualize
crimson and tangerine flames within me
but find myself greeted with nothing but the black on the back of my eyelids
or is it just coal that i inherited?
dying embers being the specks of light that poke through

in all honesty, i don't think i was ready to be born into this world yet
the doctors told my mom she could not have a natural birth
because i refused to turn myself upside down
inside her womb like i was supposed to

almost like it was my way of telling them, wait -
i need a little longer
where it is warm, where it is safe
where there is still room for me to grow

give me a moment longer to tend to these embers
light them back into the fire that is supposed to be my birthright
that is supposed to run red within my blood

instead i open my eyes and find the greenish blue within my veins
like the salt water that shaped me

no trace of the passionate desire to survive
which leaves me feeling like i am lacking
i thought i was meant to be sharp like them
but i have come to learn that i'm not a sliver of glass
melting into nothingness with each wave that crashes over me

instead i've found that i am the ocean
the black behind my eyelids is the vastness, too deep to see
soft enough to flow through obstacles but solid enough to transform
whatever finds itself within the depths of me

my mother always tell me i'm too sensitive
but that doesn't mean i'm weak
my strength lies in my fluidity
which ebbs and flows like the sea