I feel like a child again,
like back then, when mom would pull us by the hand
and show us the world around,
“Look, my child, the sky that hides the stars,
look, my child, the sun that shines,
look, the earth that hosts us…”
I want to crawl back into your arms, mom,
because the poison dripping from the air now,
doesn’t remind me of your milk,
the milk that nourished me and made me feel alive.
I’m afraid – truly, very much –
that I’ll wake up in a cradle,
with a black mosquito net,
and there I’ll face, mom, the death itself
and the (three) Fates singing mournfully.
Mom, don’t leave me alone in the world,
because surely they will fall and shallow me,
and how will I survive,
with the fear of choking me, devouring me?
