Telegram From Motherdom
Dear abandoned blog, Medium profile and Facebook page,
this is a message
to tell you that I did not die.
I gave birth 12 months, 1 week,
and 6 days ago.
I have let my stats drop
and grow wild
to run after a comet.
It burst out of my lower belly, enormous,
covered in blood,
a tuft of white-blond hair
sticking out spectacularly at its head.
I ran after it, with pads
stuffed inside my hospital underwear,
and have been following it
since then.
Dear camera, portfolios
and Instagram account,
this is an apology.
You are now
(respectively)
malfunctioning, dusty
and hacked.
And here I am,
passing you by
everyday on the road to Motherdom,
sorry and yet
otherwise engaged,
happily shooting mundane pictures,
in Automatic mode.
I am still running after that rolling ball
of light.
Dear notebooks, fellow travel writers,
dear awesome book project,
this is a telegram.
Working on great story.
Stop.
Probably the most important story of my life.
Stop.
And finally,
dear hiking boots,
poles,
passport
and backpack,
sleeping bag
and jackknife,
this is a call from the wild.
Do not look behind,
for I have gone way ahead of you.
I have become
something entirely different:
gathering food;
grunting in my sleep;
sniffing and babbling.
Furry at the legs, sturdy at the hips.
Strong as a tree,
arms like enormous branches
full of nests.
Wild and fierce;
howling at comets.
Watching intently
the star that shot from my belly;
growling to protect it;
ready to die; ready to kill,
covered in blood.
But fear not,
and stick around.
I will retrace my steps to you.
Out of Motherdom,
back into Humanity.
