I tried to mother you.
what did you do?
You lashed me from behind,
whipped with projected anger.
Denied kind eyes and smiles.
Reviled I endanger your real child,
who followed, resembling you.
Resentful of fate’s unfaithful promises,
offer in sacrifice firstborn goat kid’s exile.
No regrets. No graveside confession
of adoration or apology. I have learned to be
creator of my own obsessive mind.
It doesn’t matter that mother lied,
that daddy died, brother decried, sister defiled.
What matters is you grabbed back and mind,
resolved to fly, reached for the sky,
actually took hold.
What matters is you’re neither owed nor owned.
What matters is the realm you claim as home