the theft of my brother and me

reduced my mother’s heart

to a faint pulse
her natural right

to nurture and raise         taken

as we were ripped away
my brother got moved north

taught to break in horses

before they broke him
i was sent to the city

to clean white houses

with black hands
my connection to land

the dust

i wiped from surfaces
my pain

tucked in sheets         swept off floors

and aired out on laundered winds
i knew there was a dream

for me

that wasn’t written by

white men         inked

with my ancestors’ blood
my smile shone brighter

than the silver i polished

the day i left

at sixteen
i returned

              where black swans nest

              where two lakes kiss
no longer interrupted

              black feet in sand

my mother’s land

my mother’s embrace