Photo by Rene Böhmer on Unsplash

my mother prays for me:
for a man who can pick my brain
respectfully, harvest my thoughts
like they’re seeds of treasure
plant them on the ground as we grow
family trees and precious heirlooms:
our matured minds, our ripened souls.

she prays for a man who is secure
even if he’s not whole — at least
he knows his holes and has the
will to hold them accountable &
will not hold my hands
with his crab claws.

she hopes my eyes would
be bright around him and still
shine without him — that’s why
she prays for me, for a man
who is secure enough.
even if he’s not whole,
even if he’s not holy,
at least he’s enough.

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