I Am Her Mother

God makes no mistakes
That’s what they say, we say these things to bandage the pain
I love her but I don’t feel like myself
This body ripped from the seams, bled out on a table but my mind is messed up
I bend, on knees, praying for healing of mind and body
I can be a better woman for her, I can get past this depression
I have conversations with God instead of my mother and them
People turn you away from them and to God to deal with it
since mental health is seen as a disgust, a weakness, in this here community
they say things like “You can’t handle this shit.”
I can’t, I can, I can’t, what is happening to me?
I apologize to my ancestors for not being as strong as them
For not having the ability to push through despite feeling this
God makes no mistakes, get over it they say and I love my baby so much
With cuddles and kisses and I allow her to feed from me until she’s full
I can’t shake this sickness, this depression feels like a spiritual attack
And prayer, this prayer is not enough for me
I am thirsty for assistance, to be heard, to speak, to rid my mind of all these things
Don’t tell me to pray about it when my mind is screaming 
Don’t dismiss me with, “I’ll pray for yous” and “mmhmms” “yeah rights”
I am still on my knees whispering silent prayers for a breakthrough and nothing’s happening
Anxiety riddles my mind like skittles falling out of its bag and onto the floor
I love her enough to take responsibility for myself
To do more than pray and wait for God to send answers
And though mental health is shunned within this community
I sat down and cried ugly tears in front of a therapist

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