CALL ME BELOVED

because my birthmom decided I should be here,
because there was teenaged love, once –
because she was living a life worth living
and wanted one for me,
because she thought I could
make something beautiful

but then

because my mother couldn’t have a child,
because they thought my brother could fix it,
that nauseous need to pour yourself out until
nothing is left but then how do you fill the hole?
because she couldn’t pour herself fast enough
because my brother couldn’t fill that hole, no,
because maybe my sweetness could color
all of our lives, because my joy could become
theirs but I couldn’t pour myself out fast enough,

and then

because she saw me skipping home from class, once
because we liked the same showtunes
because she smiled at me like
sunshine blossoming springtime flowers, and
because I had poured myself out already but
she liked the empty pitcher that was left

and now

because I’m too scared to jump and my hands always shake
because we made something beautiful and maybe
I think he could make something of it, and
because I’m realizing I was always beautiful, too
and it’s not too late to make something of it –
I poured myself out but I never broke;
you can fill an empty pitcher
with something sweet