Learning to make homes

In these places where women come to die

My mother’s words take turns to hit my ears:

“When you find a man, carve a home beneath his pride and

 learn to make homes from nothing.”
Then I screamed: Mother this is not my home!

This is not a home!

It carries the weight of a man’s pride 

the same way  corpses carry the weight of tombstones​

In silence.

Mother did not listen.
She too found a home 

In these places where nothing remains 

but a swarm of men urinating on the flame of our souls 

She said: that is how we make homes out of nothing

By carrying the weight of a man’s pride

In silence.

© Elizabeth Semende