dear Erica

long braids shade brown eyes

grown weary from raising a child

as a child

your choice

the definition of bravery

 

soft toes press down upon dirty carpet

as the smell of herbs ignite my nose

coming from the mouths of

neighbors, friends, cousins, boyfriends, aunties

i remember the smell, too

but my memories don’t look like this

 

I notice sweet Ava

dreaming on the couch

eyelashes that touch the tips of planets

 

your sister didn’t think she would have a baby either,

before she could learn about them.

but she’ll know the definition of “nurture” better than any of her would-be nursing friends 

rocking one-month old cocoa skin to sleep on the couch

no cradle

 

your own is heavy in your arms

and your thoughts are heavier

but you float as you carry both

no time to worry                      

 

somewhere your mother is buying or selling

and between dirt roads, stoplights, and pick-ups she is wondering

why she can’t be the woman you are

at seventeen  

 

take him off your hip

and hear me when i speak through the windows of my heart to the doors of yours…

 

dear erica:

you teach me strength

resilience

and I came here to say

I am so proud of you.

I am so proud of you.