Baptism

This morning I forgot my name. I forgot the idea of identities holding weight, I forgot to cleanse my face from the night before.
I forgot to get rid of all waste. I forgot my dignity and my ego and my pride, although, I remember depression dies there. I keep forgetting to let go

This morning I forgot that I was broke, I spend so much alone time with trees. I found my power in watching them burn and bleed. Sometimes I think about the birds and bees. I wonder if others realize having wings doesn’t mean to be free. I’m still searching for honey and all the good things promised to me

This morning, I let my soul be, tried to forget this thing called body, tried to invite my friends to the party. I forgot no one really understands me, I forgot no one really tries to

This morning I forgot to be the person people like me to be, either quiet, graceful, or uplifting. I forgot to be impressive. I forgot to apologize for being human, how silly of us to forget how inconsistent we can be

This morning, I swore to God, although I really can’t promise I know Him. From what I know women give birth, give life, give permission, give a reason to keep on. I can’t remember the last time a man saved me

No

Can’t remember