mother 

Squashed down. Protected. No curfews no freedom. Limited. Naturally beautiful but not beautiful enough. A failed woman with no paint on her skin no rouge on the lips.

Married. Too old but young enough. Yes and no and three bags four and five.

The cement. Every fiber and every foundation. Growing and healing and learning and gaining.

She is power.

Running through me, thick and deep she is mother.

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