Motherism

i put myself in my own womb,

gestated her with my own book of mannerism

Cocooned in a prism,

i wondered whether she could only be put in one translation

At the heart of woods,

the ID photos taken are trashed in a later day

reading my own journals,

i assumed someone inside has truly passed

Having given her a chance to be her own child,

being a child is a temporary identification

In the woods, i chase,

hiding and seeking, over lights and shadows

until we came out, wondering

which one was to be mislaid?

Authors Website: https://www.jamiemayminjie.com/

Photo Credits: https://www.andrewfrench.com/

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