Birth Cycle

A Poem to a friend

We are our Mothers,

we are also men,

His strength and tenderness undressed me one afternoon,

until all there was left was the ocean,

and seas of his fluid,

like the honey that eased a bitterness,

and the love harp of Orpheus,

Though he is a man,

I am also a man,

We could have been Doctors or Lawyers,

but instead our hearts opened.

We had sworn by our heritage,

that our souls would be united as one.

we were radicals and activists,

but instead of opening our veins and spilling blood,

he entered me,

and we knew our deaths this way.

This music,

in honor of our Mothers, had somehow given birth

to a future,

that maybe mistakes were made,

and that after everyone has been forgiven,

It was our Mothers

who were the women we became,

as angels,

in each others arms,

lovers and soldiers,

brothers and sisters,

but maybe just the best of friends.