
This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.
When you use my name
You, too, are giving life to the promise my mother held in her heart for me before I was born. An ancient inclination of who my body would become: a star bright baby with her thumb in her mouth. Easy as the breeze, a content disposition. I came to earth but never left heaven.
When I use my name
I am chanting myself home, back to me, complete. Third person isn’t the number three.
She’s just me.