give birth to me once more.
start with my head, mother,
let me witness myself become myself once more.
let me walk again, mother,
bathe under the eye-blinding sun and see myself become what I might
while getting crushed under social and existential pressure.
allow me to hold you once more.
see you dance around the house with my father as you did when I was seven years old;
allow me to shed tears again, mother, climb every mountain I see
and fall in love with passing leaves, dance with them,
write poems whose meaning I’ve yet to understand and feel as I do–
as you taught me to.
when eyes closed I walk through that door,
forgetting myself in the void,
even if you leave before me,
there, give birth to me once more.