I didn’t know about the wasps
before I had carried my toddler
across the darkened room
laid her in a bed, crawling
Clutched her sleeping body
close to my chest, turned
to retreat, but the swarm
gathered there at the door
My cousin punched a hole
in a wall, unable to discern
the exit in a smoke-filled room.
The hole remains; she doesn’t
Strangers came to her funeral
drawn by the mystery of the girl
(name unknown) who died
such a tragic death, just 18.
How did this invasion happen
how was I remiss in noticing
that this house of potential
was being consumed by threat?
Unlike my ill-fated kin,
I knew where the door was
braved it to save my child
ignored the prophetic warning
Look back at the ruins now –
hers and mine – the patterns
of abandonment, familial
neglect, disinterest a plague
How we women try to please
carry our children through
the flames, choking on
disappointment… hope
A man lit the flame that killed her,
just as a man suffocated my spirit
threads of sanity carrying me
till my mind escaped the wasps
(Ink and watercolour mine)
One Woman's Quest 