She had moved in- reconnecting endings, like shadows following us.
Rising, to make amends, telling of her memoirs-
thoughts of he, thoughts of she,
Never losing the weight -she sacrificed her dreams.
Mothering -to make the lights turn on.
Mothering, to keep that heat- singe every fiery demon within.
Mothering our names,
Mothering our pelvic rhythms,
Mothering my veins,
Mothering my wings that one day I might overstand the outcomes.
My people gave the earth it’s dirt, my people are like you
wanting to survive –
wanting life as privilege,
wanting to taste goodness, like galaxies
wanting joy like religion,
wanting love, like sweet Serengeti,
wanting their freedoms like you….
Krissy Mosley Ministries 
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