In twilight I saw my mother dance -
the bare round of her belly gleaming, giving birth to the
beginning of free will, caught like a sturgeon
struggling with the current which
was once her lover.
The gentleness of his embrace turned cold,
calling for obedience, till she shed his
word like clothes, refusing his protection.
And so she clothes herself in shadows;
the light from streetlamps, and
occasional cars becoming like the
word of dawn calling for the extravagance of color. She
was dancing out prayers like her mother’s ancestors,
with faith in her feet to move
God to open heaven
and see the rain wash away
the dust of dry earth thirsting for one kind
word, one hint of remorse, or appreciation.
Was she foolish to dance so fiercely?
God thought not.
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Submission Name: Her Twilight Dance
