I have not fallen from the spine of my mother

Because she always grasps me tight to her back

Nor did I slip from her arm

When she threw me into the sky of freedom

To embrace the whispering wind

Because her hand is a swimming pool

Where I embrace the warm waters of affection

I have not fallen from the mountain cliff

When I climb to see the vastness of the city

At my kneecap

I have not fallen into the oasis of love

Not only because I am at the peak of loving myself

But because I am afraid to fall recklessly

Into the thorns of heartbreak

Like slanting sun on the flesh

Of the high mountain

I fall into a lagoon of errors with a popping sound

I fall into a jar of milky memory

That wasps around me; a spiders’ web

With her shawl cuddled around my wound

Like a newborn baby

I fall into the eyes of my mother