Conversations with Daughters

Tell him your mama’s a witch,
When she dances
The earth opens its mouth,
Roars until every building
Collapses,
She’s torn down giants
With her Truth
And you were born
From that Power.

Tell him
Your mama’s tongue is a sword
You inherit,
Her script shapes you like a tree,
He brought no axe to this fight,
The Universe answers with Justice
For his violence
Against you, a kind, brilliant— 
I catch sight of your dimming light.

I remind you
Seasons aren’t lifelong,
But they move slowly,
Like trees that must grow
Big enough to bend,
Reach the sunlight,
The rain floods this ground you stand upon,
And I never thought we’d need an umbrella 
This young,
I teach you how to construct a shield out of jackets,
Whisper reminders into your hair.

My hand rests over your heart
Until this season ends,
Gently tell you when he says
It’s your fault,
The world will swallow him
Eventually, 
Perhaps before he ever learns responsibility,
As I gather all of the parts of you,
These fallen leaves,
I assure you spring,
In time, returns,
Along with your sovereignty.