A Letter To My Mother Who Bled So I Could Be Free

Happy Mother's Day!

JUST A PIECE OF LAND.

That’s what they must have thought —

As they tore you apart, limb by limb.

Not once, not twice.

I have lost the count now.

But I know you were bleeding.

And I know — it wasn’t the first time.

Nor will it be the last.

Still, you wrapped your wounds by dusk.

Like a warrior mid-battle,

Polishing their weapons for the dark dawn awaiting.

You stood tall.

Not once, not twice.

Again, I’ve lost count.

You looked the enemy in the eye — like a fierce goddess.

For your children.

For those crawling all over you while you bled,

And for those still in the womb.

I see you.

The shadows of the past still hover above your crown.

And the future anxiously waits for you to bleed — again.

Vultures wait for your wounded flesh.