Mother is a doctor,

A shaman,

A preacher,

Her words and her choices

Make all that is wrong

Corrected.

I am her patient,

Her follower,

Her worshiper,

I am the wrong

She is correcting.

It is believed

All children are born

Without sin,

All but I.

My words are met with,

“Hush.”

My actions are met with,

“Why?”

My curiosity is met with

Unending lectures

Unending shame.

The doctor’s treatments

Or the shaman’s spells

Not even,

The preacher’s sermons,

Will fix

What she made

Of me.