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Art In Action

Mama Wants Success
I am balancing on a line in-between
what I need to be and whats expected of me,
calloused feet no match for
the wire gripping the thickest pads on my soles
and pushing,
the pressure of responsibility sending my nerves
to a point they never warned me about,
in sessions of adult preparations,
appropriate reactions and DBT
I’m now bound tight to a life
that I am learning how to nurture to a being,
from what was once a seed.
Know that mama doesn’t want
you to see a survivor,
I need you to see me as nothing less
than a success story
they tell me I survived as if
my chapter is somehow finished
as if I approached each battle shameless and naked,
to be told that I was to retreat
rather than rebirth from ash and fire
like the phoenix I’ve made myself out to be,
so now I find myself balancing on bare feet,
wire close to the tendons taut underneath
breathing harsh from blunt realization,
with one hand spread across my middle protectively
only I can know what to expect from me,
and mama
expects nothing less
than a success story.