i was slamming my fists down

over and over

and over again

i was spinning—maybe drunk?

head was light

brain was dizzy

stomach nauseous

weeping—like i’d just been rejected

all the familiar sensations

i was screaming: GO AWAY, YOU’RE NOT WELCOME HERE

but i was alone

laying on the floor

rolling, crawling, yelling

an undeniable tantrum

i couldn’t stop

i made my way to a bathroom—safety

found a hairdryer

turned it on high

held it close to my damp face,

burning my skin

then to my sopping hair—had it been raining out?

i couldn’t get warm

shivering uncontrollably—duh-duh-duh-duh

every muscle clenched

i reached for the bathtub,

filling it with hot water

but by the time i stepped in,

it was already cold

my legs tangled in clumps of hair—is this mine?

i bit my tongue

settling in deeper

until i fully submerged

holding my breath

hoping maybe i’d just wake up

but i didn’t

so i reemerged, gasping for air

and notice a baby laying on the rug

where i had been curled up

just moments ago

she was so small—

crying, crying, crying

i bent over to pick her up

sweet, fragile soul

and kissed her soft, blotchy skin

held her close to my chest

and sang:

silent night

holy night

all is calm

all is bright

she softened, fell asleep

whose baby is this? i love her

my mother appeared in the hallway

kind of ghost-like?

she was smiling

with one hand over another on her chest

feeling pride, nostalgia

a wave of sunlight rushes over me

so radiant and warm on my face

in my belly, in my heart

it’s soothing, loving, peace

i smile back at her

i understand now