NTY

So child
You have tasted freedom
On your tongue
can you come home to tender shackles
And unwind the wind in your hair
Chained to a non- existent fire
Can you see so deep into the flame?
Can I stretch my umbilical
Thrumming
Beyond
A quilt on our wall?
I don’t know
But I do know this
Child
Come home open
To express what you have lived
With a kind tongue
And hear
The quilt of home
On patchwork eyes
with kind eyes
and a wild tongue
and you will feel
The stitches between quilts.
They stretch wider than our freedom’s boundaries
My cunt has been split and healed
To a ravelling
And you child
My boy
Make all such nonsense - sense
I am a patch
in the patchwork of your days
but
child
I am the warp and weft
of your words
so speak
with the salt of freedom on your tongue
to the mother
who has given wind
to your young sails.
Come home breezily
with the smell of smoke
on your skin
and speak
Child
I will hunt down your words
as punishingly
as I have hunted down
your siblings words
when once they were as young as you
they did not thank me
but they lived through this
vivacious, exponteially loving,
fucking shit bit
of living free with me
Child
now you have to live the stiches
with the wind in your face
bigger than any punch.
Tiny options
are your deliverance
can you see so deep into the flame?