She asked: “How do you write?”
I took a trip to my beginnings, navigating the routes to my words
and the path to my pain.
My father taught me how to read with the mind.
My mother showed me how to write with my heart,
Then she taught me how to talk with my soul.
My little sister showed me how to navigate my words,
Then she released them in an avalanche from the sky
as she departed for heaven.
When her laughter was stolen from us,
my pen cried with blood,
because the tears had frozen in my eyes.
I am in exile,
Divorced,
Broken.
With no home.
I have four mothers,
and eleven sisters.
I have Godsend friends,
A horse,
A son,
and a therapist who tended to my soul,
before my broken wings let me fall from the skies into the abyss.