Post-Childhood Self-Mothering

Post-Childhood Mothering

I wrap my body
around the body of my unguided youth,
the child who wept at a speedway, lost, on their own,
who saw photos of her sister long before she met her,
knew her Father's name
only by the name she decided
outside towering Old Bailey,
who knew the affliction of errors in white crochet,
man's hands before knowing how to soften them,
fear before fear had a face,
dreamt of warriors and peaches and bicycle rides,
experienced life upon life upon desert -
held and rocked and fathomed
the reason for speaking in whispers,
seeking time alone,
retracting
and because
I wrap my body
around the body of my unguided youth,
there is a silence of acceptance,
an unfurling in what was wounded,
an understanding only found with time.