My Name Yahyaa

My Name Yahyaa

My name Yahyaa.I don’t believe I can, though I know I can.My name Yahyaa, my struggle complex,Began a long time ago, maybe in a death, in the arms of my mama.It was my blood that bled from the blade that swayedAt her side.Her eyes, black, were eclipsing,The spontaneous damp of her skin, I saw it glisten,Incandesce her face,The color of water and rubies strewn like rare sea shells into her ocean.I laid slick on hot skin, humid fabric.Her forehead plowed into straight lines, I saw them,There will grow flowers out her mind.Her nostrils wide and seizing something I no longer understood.She stayed. Held my head. She stood. Held it to my chest.I went. Looking.Looking, I saw.She smiled. Then she didn’t smile anymore.Waiting. Waiting. To begin life. Inside of smiling lips. My name Yahyaa.