My Mother Makes Me Human

My mother knows so many things
She knows how to make plants grow,
And how to soothe the ravage beast inside me
She knows how to cook for Kings,
And how to draw me out from my darkness
She knows how to dress in style,
And how to make me appear human in front of dinner guests.

But I am only just beginning to realize
That my mother does not know everything
I am only just beginning to decide
That it is time for me to live without her

Stars

From this window, I can see the stars
I pull back the emerald curtains and stare at those distant lights for the longest time
Amongst the millions, I find my friends and greet them by name
To the collection of five bright stars, “Good evening, Cassiopeia.”
To the lone wanderer, “Hello, North Star.”
And to the sprawled constellation that occupies much of the night sky – “Bless you, Orion: the mighty hunter.”

These are the same stars I can see from my bedroom window at home, and being able to find them now is reassuring
My world may be shifting under my feet, sending me reeling in directions I’ve never been – but the stars are constant
From her window at home, my mother looks out to these same stars
In my mind’s eye I can see her
She gazes out, her greying hair pulled back with a brightly coloured headscarf, searching the sky for a sign of me
Her wise eyes reflect the heavens, and she is beautiful
I know that this is my imagination, but it eases my homesickness a little
No matter how far I wander from where I’m supposed to be, at least the stars will watch over me and guide me home
That night, when at last I blew out my candle, I slept easier than I had in months
Above me, the stars turned in the sky, and that stranger’s bed felt just a little more like home