I was born in water, weightless and green,
From a warm bath in the womb to white tub,
Sterile hands, disinfectants, and needles,
There was no nature there, not in that room,
I return to my mother when I sleep,
My head lolls and I feel her soft hands scratch
All over my back, arms, tangle my hair,
Beg for five more minutes, flop down, dead weight,
She’s always here and there’s never enough,
I think of her in the rain, wash my hair,
Gently tug it the way only mum can,
From the island, made of condensation,
Crashing waves and torrential storms let loose,
Knows she can’t hurt her own, needs it to grow.