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I AM A WOMAN. I feeeeeelllll this so strongly during this early morning. Piece of an old poem I found from years ago. I love my mother, the poem’s not perfect, but neither are we. 🧡 There is war within my body, there is. She says: You are walking on coals, they’re hot, you’re right, keep walking. To return is pain, to go forward is pain, But why return when you have already begun? The soil is cool and wet across the way. Have courage. She holds my hand. Mother, I begin. I want to crawl back into your womb, When my body was your body. Do you remember when I was your mama and you were my baby? Do you remember when we were free? Tell me you remember you and me. She shakes her head, oh! My earth is not perfect, sweet girl, I could never have you thrive off of my roots. You have sprouted, so sprout. The earth will shift as you grow. The earth doesn’t quake, it is you, only you. Your roots have hooked, they furrow deeper. What feels like war is spirit sinking into matter. Here there is friction; the coal burns hot. I walk through. My soles have never looked the same, but the soil is wet here.