I was asked by a man recently “how can you support yourself doing what you do?” Why did you choose “these ways?”
I have never heard my Mother’s Voice. It lay in decay under the headstones of her losses. But, all decay can compost itself through worm dreams and seedlings and find its way to the light.
She was silenced long ago and has been riddled with illness all my life. I lost her young when I left my home, her and my three younger brothers behind. It ripped her heart out and, yet, she knew I had to go. I have wandered in the streets of my own dark night for decades in search of her touch, her song and a somewhere we could be together again. Her story has formed much of my own narrative.