Wishes From Your Mother

Photo by Josh Willink from Pexels

I wish I could take the world from your tiny,
trembling hands
and reshape it to resemble the
insides of your heart
rise the sun with a flicker of your eyelash
stir the mountains at the sound of your whisper.

I wish I could coat you
in the sweet aromas of my womb
so you would never feel the bites and burns
the elements will inflict
outside of my earth.

I wish I could carry the
ache in your heart, the
loss in your lips, the
longing in your bones
fill you up with only the smell of home
the touch of your skin on a bed of
familiarity.

Yet, the absence of my wishes
are the birth of your voice;
distinct, dreamy, desolate — apart.
You erupted out of me
we are destined to be
two islands
bound by fluid seas.