where did you come from?
why do you think you were born?
5 years ago i began
a healing journey
towards an understanding
of my truths.
i know my mother wanted me.
i know i was an ‘uh, oh!’
but i never got a chance
to ask my mother any questions
since she died when i was 25
and at that time in my life
i had no questions
because i was to caught up
in her fighting to stay alive
marrying a man i should not have
having a son i prayed for
and having no clue as to who i was
or what i should do with my life…
this is how i imagined her truth…
A woman’s prayer was answered
In May of 1962 in the ‘burbs’ of Chicago.
Tears streaming down her cheeks
She begged God for solace, for relief
From the demons which inhabited her home.
“Please God, give me a daughter,
Give me someone who will love me back…”
As the lunches were served around the city
I entered with a mere coo, a soft smile and a cornered heart.
At the same time the two toe headed demons
Planned my demise while my father continued
To build a wall of steel, surrounded by poisonous words.
I was a gift to my mother.
Ruled by my father, tortured by my brothers
My mother was soft, full of color and light.
Her soul was nearly snuffed out by the three of them.
As she held me in her arms, her burdens began to lift-
If only for mere moments of time.
She would dress me in pretty coats with matching bonnets
Or brush my long silky hair.
As I grew and hung on to her apron strings
My spirit hidden behind my big brown eyes
My happiness depended upon the
words I was expected to lock inside.
i had no voice
was silenced by my brothers
and retreated to the small space
under the red wooden steps
creating my make believe world
in writing and drawings…
i think it was amusement for them
to watch me
Tumble down the red wooden steps …
being pushed and shoved by my brothers
Left my tiny soul shattered, yet I always knew
My mother would be there to hold and rescue me.
I would wake to her smile, I would follow her scent,
I would draw in her colors and i would feel her pain.
i knew my presence made her smile
and lightened her load…
she shared her life with me,
faith, prayer, baking, laundry…
no matter what, she taught me how
and included me…
when she would dress for date night every Saturday, I would lie
on the bed and gaze at her beauty. She was the rose
on the thorns, and this image flowed through my veins like a slow,
Long ride on a squishy inner tube down the lazy river
Surrounded by yellow daffodils and linen white Lily of the valley flowers.
I knew as a child I was her beating heart.
That I was given to be her red lipsticked smile.
I was hers, so she could be mine.
This may sound silly, but we drew from each other
Strength, faith, hope, love and the dream of
Living behind a white picket fence instead of being
Locked up and surrounded by the runoff of filth,
Pain, torture and words which could never be unsaid.
which is why when husband #1
i married him.
my mother said,
‘sher, he can give you that white picket fence,
a good home, travels, kids…
the life i always dreamed of…’
how could i not marry him
and live my life for her?
i loved her.
she was the reason
i was here…
In my mother’s short life upon this earth
I loved her as the the seedlings are quenched by the rain.
I was born, to live, to die, to live again and while I am here
Her story I will tell, her love I will share and I WILL BLOOM….