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Your swollen face,
I see.

My voice trembles.

I have always been seeking any tiny sign of your love.

I left your wings, trying
to find mine, carrying

tight

on
my

belt

a sharp and shiny knife.

Ready, shall I be, the cord to cut.

I will not be your judge.

I will not be your carer.

Signs of love in the streets.

My heart, too scared to believe.

My heart is too scared to exist.

Universal forces,

forces of change,

a pink moon,

ancestral souls will be dancing.

For the ones who are here.

For the ones that are gone.

My body

will join this dance, my naked

soul will follow wearing

a necklace only,

one made by my umbilical cord.

I want to keep my neck warm,

I want to sing the psalms of this

new

womanhood.