Miles and miles I traversed with a promise.

The earth is red, and she sustains me

The water is cold, and in winter hardened

It takes my husband, oh but spares me

Cruelly, it separates seed from sun.

The earth had become me

She lines my uterus,

envelopes our precious seed

In baths of nutrients.

I could never afford nutritious

Juicy flesh of berries that soiled

My calloused, harvesting hands.

Inhale, exhale

The nitrous oxide flows, though

rhythmic, cramping remains.

It suffocates me.

I can’t do this anymore.

I miss the sun.

Will I ever see him again?

A strange voice through a tablet, interpreting.

“Sorry, can you repeat that please?”

Beeps and buttons and endless monitors

I still don’t get what it all means.

“Vamos mi niña, you can do it,”

My mamá echoes across the phone.

The exhaustion settles in my bones.

I am the thousands of bones before me

That back breaking, brutal deliverance

I must execute at just the right rate.

I am every mother far from home.

My home calls to me.

My home is you, mi semillita.