TOWER
Mother, climb up to the top of this empty tower.
Overlook your fortress.
No one can cross the bridge to you now, Mother
for you have buried your soul in stone and mortar.
Mother, I imagined you spilled seas of saltwater,
I dreamt you sculpted us in the heat of the sun.
Your sweat and your blood built these weathered walls, Mother:
now they cage you in, leaving only the skeletons for your daughters.
I thought you might have known us once, Mother,
as you fired our clay into flesh from your wonder.
But then you built yourself a prison of stone, Mother
and we no longer knew to love you, hidden inside your invincible walls.
What could we do? Tell us, Mother. Tell us
for we did not know how to save you.
At the end we stood side by side
and encircled what had become of your heart.
Then, Mother, we knocked it down with our bare hands
shaping you anew, as you stood trembling in the centre of it all.
Now. Climb up to the top of this empty tower.
Overlook your fortress.