The inside of my heart is like the Ceiba Tree,
Covered in Spikes which have punctured it,
left me Wounded,
Gun bullets, near every Part of a vital Artery,
Blood still Spilling,
The Floors drenched in Hurt,
Red Grapes, Plums, the blood of Pomegranates,
Staining the Skin in Site,
Of the Desire of Love which had a Place,
But could not be filled by its Functioner,
The Mother of Child,
and not just Her,
The Community that was supposed to Protect.
On the markings of the Heart,
Where bullets don’t sit,
Or where Hands never touched, as the bruises went away,
The Lighter Punishment,,
On the Markings of the Heart,
There are the Memory of Knives,
The Knives of the Voices that came and Curdled my Pain,
Who Stirred the Stew of Grief,
and added to it,
My Mothers Voice,
The Memory of Punishment,
How she Ruined me.
For most of my Life,
We have removed the names of Loved Ones,
From the Bodies that inhabited the Roles through which they Punished Me.
Removed their Place,
In traditional Society,
No she was not my ‘Mother, Aunt, Uncle’;
Just Vehicled Bodies,
Who inhabited Spirits,
That came with Labels,
Such as Mother, Father, Uncles, Aunts, Cousins,
Sent on mission to Hurt,
So I could Learn.
So I could, I am not Sure?
Burn in this Lake?
So I could be forged into a Guerrera,
To become the Cherail I always was.
Tortured.
In the Worst Ways.
Prayed throughout It.
Asked God for Strength.
So these Roles,
Must have Names that need to be Placed Back on their Bodies.
For all of Us do Deserve Mothers, Fathers, Uncles, Aunts, Cousins,
Families,
Who Do Belong to Us.
I am now Placing the Names where they Should Be,
Not Personal,
But Yes.
Personal.
They did try to Kill Me.
Over and Over.
and Over.
and this Last time.
Was Savage.
Yes that was my Blood.
The One that Birthed Me.
Placenta, Pain and Fear,
The Ones who have my Hair,
Who have my Nose, who cradled me in their Arms,
My Skin as white as Snow,
The Ones who Watched my Skin turn to Purple,
From the First time she Beat Me,
The First time they All Watched the Spectacle,
The Ones who have the same Marks on their Skin,
The Ones who were Friends with my Father,
The Ones who sat with us at the Grave,
The Ones we grieved for.
God Protect my Heart.
My Love.