Survival

5/30

 
To the mothers who give their kids names of Central American Rivers, dreams, adding extra letters… extra authenticity, to the ones who choose to be a chaotic current instead of pacific water, to the moms who decided to be hard instead of easy, the ones who wanted their daughters to dust themselves when they fall, the ones who knew your name would be hard to pronounce, but they knew you would survive, to you…madres, strong ones, I say thank you for giving me a name people would never comprehend but it makes me who I am. 

 
#CrónicasParaDescolonizar

Mujer con Voz ©2016


photo credit

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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