Monotone

I paint pictures of many thingsI give the plastered walls of our home real paint on my canvassometimes I paint my face without my ugly tribal marks.I also paint pictures of my father and break his leg in the picturein moments like this I am god. I punish him for abandoning my mum and me,but I have never painted my motherwithout including myself in the picture.I did not know that a woman may change when she brings a child to earth,but the change is not irrevocable.when my mother had me and my sister, her stomach did not flatten completelyit did not go back to how it used to be beforeso I thought she had transformed forever.I thought she disposed of her "woman" identity,and started to only answer to only "mother".my mother crosses many fires barefoother body is the north and south of a country torn apart by warbut being forced to stay togethermy father once said peace does not settle every crisis and distance will resolve many wars. then he proceeded, "marriage should not be a thing of force. I am going."the wrinkles on my mother's stomach and thighs are like rootswhere trees developand she waters her own herself tooI have never seenmy mother sweat.although sometimes I see her cryand I cry too, but only out of exasperationbecause she should be tending to my own tearsand I am the only one allowed to cryand she is stronger than me(and everyone)so she stops weeping, wipes her face with a wrapper, and cradles my headwhile nursing agony in her stomachand swallowing back wailsdeep into her throat.