Poetry By Amanda Rosas

           Hunter Desportes CC

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Welcoming the Savior

If gratitude exists in this hollowed stump of a body of mine, then let it 
release like forest breeze and graze my children with its sawdust print
of kindness. Let me give instead of grieve, sit in the small hum of green 
universe unburdened and wild with the tender physics of thankfulness
so they never doubt the pounding love thumping like gorilla flesh inside 
of me for them. Instead, I yell dispersedly, the cuffs of my self-hate are no
more a prison than a weapon. Let the freakish idea of self-love not be so 
freakish. Let it null and be opened organically like the need to blink to 
see and be seen. Let this unfair weight of losing battle, losing life be 
deadwood I push away down the new of river water so that I, too, am 
new enough to wade my wanting feet into this muddy, shaking lake of
healing.  Let this be the cycle that breaks in two and kicks. And yes. Let 
there be relief in my ribs’ expanse and a mother in my ear saying you’re
the one who saved yourself.

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​Amanda is a mother, teacher and poet originally from San Antonio. She draws strength and creativity from her Latina roots, and from her husband and three daughters. Her work has been published by The Latino Book Review and The Front Porch Review, among others. She dreams of becoming a full time writer and storyteller.