the umbilical cord that ties me to her
even after i fled her to find peace
wraps around my lungs and squeezes the air out
i suffocate while living oceans away from her
let me go, you were never my mother!
a mother cuddles and coddles her children
you rained bullets on my childhood dreams, instead
i gather my courage to take the scissors in my hand
it’s time, though it’s late, never too late for cutting toxic ties, right?
the ocean waves float my wounded body
while I cut the invisible rope tied around me
my home doesn’t have a land now
my land doesn’t have a home now
what is a land without roots, but an obligation to keep watering it?
what is a home without care both ways?
mother(land), let me go
i severed the umbilical cord
it’s the 100th time, though
she will come back strong
she always does
evertime, it is tragic
but, hey, i will rather die trying than not
mother(land), bury my name in the backyard of the children you cherished
throw the remnants of me in the home you never gave me
and let go of any memories of me in the flooding rivers
release me from the strange hold you have around my lungs
it’s time, though it’s late, never too late
for unmothering the children you never cherished
the children who kept coming back to you, carrying gifts
and looking for something they never got from you
have mercy and let them go
jeevi
