remarks begin subtly
— as if she has a right
to pour her beliefs onto a child
as if they should adopt them
— so subtle i want to kick her
* instead watch her volley
— between god-complex and implication
knowing it could break what semblance of
— mother-daughter relationship we have
it rumbles deep in my belly
— stirring in face of judgment
anxiety felt for a child
as they gather themselves from youth to adulthood, who they are and choose to love is no one else’s to make. should she step forward and voice her opinion outright, she’ll find herself floored in the vehement steam building in my heart. i know my child, and even if he can’t articulate it, i knew his preference at age two and shared it to meet even then with pushback, so knew i’d effort to make up for the short-sightedness of the ignorant generations they’re all surrounded by. it’s not like her choices, or anyone’s for that matter, can protect them from man’s unexpressed fury and broken faith.
how dare anyone tell a child they can be whatever what they want yet refrain from being who they are. lord help me not to slap my mama out of stupidity.