I Am the Woman

Lina Hashem

You’ll remember on your sickbed,
The one who knits fall leaves to winter trees,
Draws her hand on a sheet of paper,
Colors it in red paint so you
Wouldn’t forget that yours

Are made of blood. I am the woman who lives
In cracked eggshells because I know we are all made
To be broken, because I know that I
Can put pieces together,

Hatch again. I am the woman who will remember
To carry the moon on her shoulders
Till you reach the last sky

Crawling, who digs her own grave
With every step, plants it with sunflowers
And Ivy, so that she will feel cherished

Even under footsteps. I am the woman
Who will shield you with her fingertips
When you scarred her with yours, who will rise for you
Even when you have your blinds down, feed you
With distilled tears when your heart beats to cunning

Laughter. I am the woman who will impregnate the
Dark with a sun belly that shines every mourning, the one
Who will cry to quench your thirst for winning.