I Could’ve Been Gone
by Goddess T. Marie
I could’ve been gone.
And not just buried.
I mean gone gone.
I could’ve been with lovers,
getting flewed out,
on shopping sprees,
eating strawberries on balconies in far away places
letting some man pay my rent for a smile.
Oh, don’t play—
I’ve seen the sugar daddy content.
I could do it.
But I didn’t.
I could’ve been gone
mentally.
Could’ve taken the powder they offered.
Numbed out.
Doped out.
Stoned out of my damn mind
and no one would have blamed me.
But I chose to stay.
I chose to be present.
I chose to be a conscious parent
even when the dreamer in me
was begging to run.
I’m standing here.
And I’ll keep standing.
I’m digging my roots deep—
deep into this earth,
into this body,
into this sacred role as
the mother tree.
The one who only lives
to give Back to the fruit
that came from her.
Cyclically.
Over. And over. And over.
But catch this fire:
I’m taking care of me.
Because I’m the damn tree.
And what happens
when the tree dies?
Exactly.
So if you ever try to call a mother selfish
for saving her own life—
Don’t.
I’m not dramatic.
I’m just done dying quietly.
And this?
This is my gospel from the flames