Betty.

Where I’m from, you don’t make your own bad decisions.

​Bad luck is something given to you like a gift in stockings,

placed in the dead of night and in silence.

​

I’ve learned to cover my body to avoid getting a coat of red dirt on my skin.

I heard The Land of Freedom has gold roads, and

Rivers of milk and honey.

I tell them I was like this the day I was born,

tiny and trusting the things I was told.

​

Some seasons later, I learned of the value my beauty held,

And I met the first three loves of my life.

​I mistook these encounters for devotion, and I had one daughter and two sons.

​Alone, I relied on the community to raise me again.

The dreams I had for myself, I buried in pits,

​

I would never retrace those steps.

There is no future more important than tomorrow,

When survival is the goal.

​

I left home one day, not knowing when or if I’d ever return.

The oceans below me are endless,

Yet I know it was the right thing for my children.

​

I hope no one notices my faith turning into fear.

I've already given up everything I've known.

​Fear that they’ll run after achievement,

Attend prestigious institutions.

Inherit individualism, and leave me all alone again.

​

Why is the floor falling away from me,

I wish it would make contact with the soles of my feet.

They’ll find my body slowly swaying,

They’ll ask themselves how they failed to notice,

Like when a woman misses bleeding for some weeks.

Do I foster a life, or will this end in ruin?

​

When I was young, I learned to make a knot,

I learned to tie my shoes, then a rope.

I taught my children the importance of ties.