you don't remember (how can you not remember)
this is how a mother speaks
memory, speak
your eyes are lit in 16 year neuron firework
i am reaching toward a
nursing infant
the door slams so closely against my face
i feel it's soft sob and shake
California
the great cry of your unknown heart
pouring in drywall
in staccato
the Mormons at the door assure me
God will protect
God
all night the living room we hold hands, look
toward your room
the tv
silent, the perfect Poltergiest
a vortex in the place of
our faces
my worst fears live inside the couch
they eat our sweat
like candy.
m.m.e
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"What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open " M.R.
she's precocious / and she knows just what it takes / to make the pros blush
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what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
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Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
you can stand under my umbrella
the light is on for you
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
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"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Beautiful poem. Loved the couch, the poltergeist, the Mormon bit (I am a Mormon).
:)
mormon was just a fitting label for the idea i was looking to represent. nothing against Mormons. :)
it wasn't offensive, there are so many LDS on blogging websites, and yeah they hope it WILL be alright. As a former mormon at your door I think it will be alright too. rest easy, all you can do is care, love, respond fairly, and love some more. OR you could tie him up and lock him in the closet for at least another 16 years...how could that be bad? Then you would for sure rest easy!! ;)
but like the mormons are always saying: this too shall pass, you can only hope that you handled it the best way possible. I am thinking you nipped it in the butt before it got out of hand... and now you are fully aware of what's going on.
Beautiful poem, Maggie May, just perfect. I love the door's sob... You have a gift.
My husband's aunt is Mormon and back in the 70's she sent many misisonaries to try to convert us heathens. We ended up taking them with us to see Dr. Zhivago once where they got busted because their bishop was there. LOL! (They weren't suppopsed to go to movies. Bad influences, we were.)
Thanks for sharing your heart. Blessings!
Anxiety, leaking into the couch. Yes. Beauty from fear. You do that.
Hi Maggie,
A powerful poem with beauty and depth. We want them to remember, how it was when they were small, and they trusted our every word, our every motion, our every glance- We want them to understand that now, when we rail at them for their faults, when we cry for their mistakes, we are also celebrating the child we know they are, the child who loves and thinks and feels free, open to the world and its beauty. We want that for them, again and always. We can only watch and guide so much, and hope they will remember, all we did, how we tried, and that we love them. It hurts when they slam the door.
Annie that is exactly it. You said so very beautifully just what I feel.
So equally beautiful and painful.
Lovely...
ohhhhhhhhh-
but i am not a mormon.
always wanting more... and more!!
love
yolanda.
i am working on the Fall issue of my Mag, if you want to send me something, poem or drawing or whatever, email me!!
if you don´t, no problem, but that would make me soooo happy... hehe.
you write like a genius.
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