I want to place sunflower crowns around her tresses,
And blow dandelion seeds her way,
Dance to the light of the sun my darling,
Let mama water you with love,
When did she learn to find shame in her curls?
And that her skin would be better a lighter shade?
At what point did she recognize her own flesh as the enemy?
Her fragile body a breathing battlefield for self loathing,
That wasn’t the bread that I fed her on,
I’ve spent my whole life trying to purge myself of that bread.
©copyright of Samara Moore
Let us feed love and life to the next generation. Not hate.