Mama said you have always been feisty,
Your legs have run too fast into the arms of trouble,
She said you spit fire sometimes but
You love like a storm in the middle of winter.
For someone who has had to fight her way through the years,
You carry an aura of hope that only a child would understand,
Your heart is the brightest shade of red, robust with goodness
and it surprises me. It surprises me because
I heard that war leaves you hard and distant,
And this life? This life is one hell of a battlefield,
but somehow you have mastered the art of fighting
with one hand and loving with the other.
Mama always said you need to be saved.
She worried that you might blow yourself up
Into a million pieces,
The smoke from all the places you have been,
Circle right back to her front door,
She can smell you from many miles away.
But I say to her, “Mama, she doesn’t need saving”,
She doesn’t need a cage to contain her,
The world is vast enough for everything inside of her,
She can stretch herself thin and there will be places
she is yet to touch, so let her.
Let her roam free, let her crash into the various versions
of herself and all the people she is destined to meet.
Don’t worry your pretty little heart Mama,
Even the world will smell her from miles away.