oh, m o t h e r

Oh Mother

 

Dazzling, its familiarity.

A not long forgotten sensation drifts in amongst us,

and in between us

as we commence with the unsavory business of telling

simple curiosities and obligations.

 

Dwelling there amidst my memories, this is familiar

And yet each time cuts new wounds

down the pathways of scars,

not yet healed.

 

Uninformed of each other's heartache;

Our silence becomes a discomfort,

A silent scream, a physical presence,

foretelling the doubt and shame

that would come to rest within me

as I talk.

 

I’m flushed in the telling

of my present. My secret. My discovery.

My awareness, it is my own.

 

I am unsettled.

I am loathsome.

 

This is my vulnerability;

foraging for some morsel of love,

then quickly dodging the pain of being ignored.

 

5/15/07

Done