My Promise

•February 14, 2013 • Leave a Comment

I cannot give you normal,
Sweet girl,
It is not written in our DNA.

I cannot give you perfection,
Firecracker,
It does not exist.

I cannot give you siblings,
One and only,
I am aware of my own resources.

I cannot give you God,
“My little witch,”
When I cannot find him myself.

I cannot give you ALL of me,
Dear daughter,
Without compromising us.

I cannot give you forever,
Butterfly,
We must learn to value now.

But I can give you my presence,
Baby girl,
I am here.

While I can will it,
Leia,
I will show up for you.

MotherDaughter1

Posted in Motherhood, Poetry
Tags: , , ,

Abandonment and Abdication

•February 12, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Updated in light of recent events:

Abandonment and Resignation.

Posted in Abuse, Body, God, Human Rights, Humanity, Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

My Secret Name

•February 10, 2013 • 4 Comments

My secret name, once shameSecret

But more than that

Its very nature of staying hidden

Forbidden

Did more damage than the naming

Today it is not a secret

I say my name, no shame

While others cannot quite pronounce it

When they make any effort

At all, at any time, along with mine

The listening, speaking, honesty

Gives my name its due value

And I can go about my day

Finally settled in, my own skin

Proud to be called…

Posted in Abuse, Body, Family, Friendship, Humanity, Identity, Poetry, Women's Issues
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Close to the Bone

•February 7, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Not an itch,

but nerve endings firing.

Not anxiety,

but gnawing in my stomach.

Not love,

but pulling towards another.

Not pain,

but muscle and bone reacting.

Not excitement,

but fluttering in my chest.

Not anger,

but heat that travels from ears to face.

Not joy,

but warm vibration in my middle.

Not worry,

but tightening from temples to forehead.

Not a sneeze,

but triggered nose hairs.

Not sadness,

but heaviness around my heart.

Not boredom,

but restlessness of mind and body.

Not gratitude,

but tears in the corners of my eyes.

Not emotions

but biology, hormones, sensation, reaction.

Not stories

but being alive.

GoosebumpsBlackWhite

http://www.flickr.com/photos/simonthefox/2693031822/

Posted in Body, Meditation, Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

A Felt Sense of The Edge

•February 1, 2013 • Leave a Comment

When the barometer drops

My body and brain have already felt it

Like approaching an event horizon

My psyche is stretched and pulled

My feet fall far away

My middle pulled thin

My head hurled upward

I have no poles to keep me upright

Just a blob of wobble

Until I am sucked away from my reality

  I hope I end up somewhere exciting

Or anywhere at all

AliceStretched

Posted in Body, Meditation, Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

On a Lighter Note…

•January 31, 2013 • 3 Comments

Parents in the parking lot
Eating our snacks
Gotta try to be here early
Or we’ll get stuck in the back

Of the line having to keep our
Foot pressure on the brakes
But I planned and got a parking spot
So I can zone out and escape

Into NPR or music
Or the book that I brought
Text a friend to say, “I miss you.”
Or the hubs to say, “What’s up?”

So I haven’t had a shower yet
Or a real meal in a week
But I got a piece of asphalt heaven
And won’t have to watch and creep

Ten more minutes till the bell
Seems like a lifetime of a break
Oh shit! I parked all crooked
Back it up and make it straight

Then I eat my Special K chips
Got some crumbs in my lap
But at least my sugar’s spiking
So I’m pretty sure that I won’t snap

Finally the bell rings
Ants running from their hill
Where’s mine? Oh right…blue jacket!
Parking mirage to Mommy-ville

AnneMommyDrink

http://annetaintor.com/

Posted in Motherhood, Poetry, Whimsy
Tags: , , , , ,

Sensitive to the Whole

•January 30, 2013 • 12 Comments

I am reconnected to my bodyraining-diego-fernandez
In a way I must have been
When I was seven

Before eight years old
Hands turned cold
And I became frozen

Backed in a corner
Of myself
For survival

One by one pulled out
The cords that connected
Neurons to nerves

But now the stillness
The waiting and watching
The safety of silence

Has allowed a re-wiring
A warm humming of the living
That carries me out of that corner

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/raining-diego-fernandez.html

Posted in Abuse, Body, Humanity, Identity, Loss, Meditation, Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

For Francis

•January 25, 2013 • 2 Comments

There is a creature inside me
I can hear her rattled breathing
Echoing deeply with my own

She sees, hears, feels
Along with me except
Brings fire that boils my tissue

I have no choice
But to peel off my own skin
Reveal her swollen and shiny dermis

She betrays my manners
Writhing and screaming
No calluses yet born to allow for hypocrisy

I don’t even look back at that lump of flesh
I am unburdened and feeling the fire
I love her

I will bleed faster
Nerves exposed to sizzle in the breeze
But I am unbidden and seen for what I am

Fat, muscle, tendon, tissue, organ, mucous
No soul to be found, only brain
That coordinates, creates, expels, explores

My skinned human body reveals
There is no comfort, only sting and sinew
I am exposed to grit, to invasion, to agony, to life

I love her

 

BaconFemale

“Portrait of Henrietta Moraes,” 1963, Francis Bacon

Posted in Body, Humanity, Identity, Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

11:06pm

•January 25, 2013 • 2 Comments

11:06pm

Again
I find myself longing listening straining to hear the train
Whistle when it traveled once across the tracks
Between buildings and lingered in the bare branches with the winter air
Shave and a haircut, no bits,  it surprised and haunted
A secret message to a lonely lover or perhaps a parentless child
Except that it came to me and fell on my ears and made ME smile
I can’t remember what deal we made
Was I supposed to recognize?
Did I forget to answer back?
Where are you now that I am settled and waiting ready
For the joy that you engendered once, now replaced with expectation
And silence

11:07pm

20130125-003707.jpg

(Thank you to the late painter Francis Bacon for providing inspiration where there was none.)

Posted in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

And I Drove By

•January 20, 2013 • 7 Comments

An open book

Cover awkwardly folded under

Pages turned by the breeze

And speed limit

Waving wildly from the center

Yellow line

Like an infant’s arms

Flailing for a mother’s affection

To spite my instinct

I pass you by

And feel less human

For not responding

Openbook

http://onesurrealistaday.com/post/14433142140/book-transforming-itself-into-a-nude-woman

Posted in Humanity, Loss, Motherhood, Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

« Previous Entries
Next Entries »