This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.

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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.