to his children

I birthed you from my blood

& bones

which were never touched by light

until I dare let people cut me open

this blood & these bones which they instead

burned with their absent gratitude

& choking desire for more
 

I birthed you from the death of those

who were supposed to love me

until I was as old as you are
 

they

who taught me that love

is pain

is unbeautiful

is death

is everything I will be thankful for
 

probably meant to stay longer to teach me that

gentleness is a virtue

tomorrow doesn’t have to mock yesterday

& I don’t have to pour myself into everyone

who will leave
 

probably didn’t mean to leave so soon to teach me that love

is not for our people

& life should be lived

without smooth lines

or the vulnerability of howling tears
 

I birthed you from wanting to resurrect my parents in myself

from wanting to travel to the new world

which was as old as it was ugly

from wanting to build a family

with what leftover dust they spilled for me

 
& pray to god that it was enough

for them
 

but the dust never settled

just fled from my grip

& reminded me

that this blood

& these bones

are empty shapes

carrying the weight of our nothing

so

what else is there to give

?