Madres


This is a collaboration with a talented and special writer from Hawaii @Christy.Passion. This photo was taken by yours truly to a special woman and her kid.

They want us to remember
the afternoon glow through
muslim curtains over the kitchen sink,
where they gently lowered
out tiny newborn bodies
into warm sudsy water
humming, always humming;
hoping we remember our
weightlessness and quenched
thirst.
Could we forget their gaze,
little birds pegged on our
fingers and toes,
lifting their downy masterpieces
preparing us for flight.

— @Christy.Passion

Mothers. Woman. Nature .
The ones who are always looking through the clutter of toys for an “everything is all right” filled with dirty fingernails,and
fatigue.
Registering. Insisting. Pacifying. Consenting.Loving in all the ways you can imagine,the bodies of their birds bloom since we too were feathers in their arms.They always keep a moment between their white stretch marks.They do not want the wind to grow.
Still, they turn up the melody,dancing in the kitchen, letting her creatures free outside the room of her own belly.

—F.P. @Mujerconvoz_poetry

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