The one who held you in her womb was birthing truth and disappearing while your music played. A truth no one could know or see. A body swollen from choices that would bleed.
All of her disappearing. Her sex, impulses, youth, secrets.
The call to sacred self, to words, for sisters to appear so for now she wouldn't have to.
When it feels like disappearing turn the music down and pull your face to the sky.
When it feels like disappearing send a blessing on a star.
When if feels like disappearing show me your heart.