Motherland

Her blood flows through my veins, although she never carried me.

I was ripped from her womb before I was even born and by the time I found my way back, the ties were severed.

I had lived a life without her. Memories were made without her, and I couldn't recognize a face I had never seen.

But she is my Mother.

I was raised by a fair maiden, in a land of blood and ice.

She bathed in juices of maple trees and her dress was of freshly fallen snow.

She loved me the best she could, but her sons and daughters never truly understood why she took me in.

I am grateful for her and what she's given me

But she is not my Mother.

At dusk, I can hear the screeching sound of Mother's cries; her pain clawing at my heart like nails on a blackboard.

"My dearest child, why did you abandon me?" she says.

At dawn, I can hear the rooster singing for the sun to rise on my brothers and sisters, while I am still sleeping.

Mother, would you recognize me if I walked by you?

Every time I smell the sweet aroma of the fruits of your waters, I think of you.

Every time I hear the roaring engines of a bipedal in the streets, I think of you.

Every day the sun embraces me and leaves its ephemeral mark on my skin, I think of your warmth and the way your touch ignites my melanin like fire.

Oh, Mother.

Before I leave this earth, I shall dwell in the sweetness of your embrace once more; cling to your dress of abyss and blood and never let go.

Oh, Mother.

Yon jou fò m' retounen nan pie w'.