I was born twice and the same
woman brought me to this
dimension.
The first time she didn’t suffer.
She said she could bear the pain.
She loved when she saw me
covered in blood.
The second time I remember
her despair and anger.
My blood stained her white blouse.
She held my hand, leaned over me
and cried.
Somebody warned her to not touch
me.
I remember…
I was born twice.
Her blood in my veins again.
Karla Bardanza
I read in this a confession. First as an innocent child in the world, which a mother truly loved. The second is a grown child who tried to commit suicide, much to a mothers anger and dismay. Her friends said don't bother with her, yet the mother picked up her child and lovingly held it to her pure white breast, and gave it sustance once again, to be reborn with new life, to go forward. That is what I read in this. Beautiful and delicately done. Blessings. Love Cinda
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