When I was a little girl
I dreamt of having babies
And I only saw them as my own,
Though they wouldn’t be,
They don’t belong
To anyone at all.
Children are free.
Being the little trickster I am
I sat my grandma down
And told her:
Grandma, when I grow up
I will have three kids
From three different men
Of three different races.
She laughed out loud and said:
Dear child, you are completely crazy.
But unlike the modern ladies
Who find a donor to donate
Half of someone’s fate,
Me, I operate
Quite differently.
I melt my life in tune, I give my heart,
Unknowingly create
The mythology of motherhood my own.
This—the fate that I saw then—
When I was just a girl,
And never did I try
To turn the tide around.
It’s just my fate,
I am not doomed.
My children of god,
Your fathers are mortals I’ve held
In my womb.
donika emille 