My mother always wanted a girl,

so much so that she bore two boys first,

so much so that she nearly died during her second labor,

so much so that she had me.

Some days I wonder what made her desire so strong.

Then I realized,

maybe she just wanted someone to understand.





Wider than the hips of my ancestors

and deeper than their oceans is the love between

me and her.

A love that only we can understand,

between me and her, her and me, and all of us. 

We are a sacred place —

a community drenched in sorrow and shrouded in rage —

a garden where we’ve planted flowers and bulbs 

that we nourish alone