Things I Imagine Telling My Daughter

Pull up your skirt and jump, Aurora

You are not a child of fear

Let the hems carry dirt

Singe the frills into melted matte

It’s not your pretty they will hear


Eat to your heart’s content

And let them call you fat

It’s your words that are potent

Not your jiggles

Seize what is yours, carpe diem –esque

While they’re stuck on giggles

You are waging peace on war, Buddha – esque


Liberating memories

Unchaining propensities

Writing un-sung her stories

Performing love eulogies

You are a child of possibilities


Conceived in the sweaty thrust of passion

Birthed in a bloody mess – of life giving

And so for the scattered blood

You avenge with – love living

Through the invisible umbilical cord

That connects you to the fire still burning

In your great grandmother’s graved heart


Ask the Oracle

You will carry the flag of compassion

And wield it between tectonic plates in friction

Entice them to mould into one

And lick back building tsunamis

Tornadoes will bow down to your melody in words

Cascading down your warrior tongue

Where Goddesses pray and dance

In a prophecy of looming shifts


You will shift and transform

Hate avalanches

Blood hurricanes

And marinate their lingering whispers

In a ravishing symphony of post-ego potential

Wrap their doubt in layers of visibility

And douse mistrust in a fire of “we”

Till their heartily singing indivisibility

So pull your skirt up and jump, Aurora

Much awaits you

Beyond the fabricated panorama.

~ Billene Seyoum Woldeyes (Aug/2012)

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Love & Light

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