Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

***

this is long and heavy
and light

***

mother

i was born from your womb

born from his seed…
daddy, where did you run to? again & again
then he died, young & confused

maybe you were in too much pain…
because you cut me off at the roots
you plucked me bare & left me there
outside
to do what…
grow?

that's when i knew
i was a wild flower

roses and bonsais get pruned
violets get sun. orchids get prizes
even petunias & geraniums get mulch, bone meal, water

me? i got
your cold shoulder & your blind eye
i got left on the playground
no kiss on the bruise. no time.
i got no trust froM you. IN you. in ME

look mother,
i'm an angel, a fairy, a flower
i skip & smile
i pretend to be the sun. for you
SEE me
see ME
LOVE
mE

i got
his temper
his disappointment
his sarcasm
his lessons in humility
youR bLind eYe

step father
step up. step down
step around me
please don't step ON me
doN't see me
see ME
loVe me

i got
his fingers
his fear
his death

oh brothers. 3 trees grow in my garden
each as broken as the other
tell me, how much bend
can a tree take before it breaks?

they snapped before my eyes
crumbled. cried. died
tell me, how can a flower bloom,
if the trees can't even survive?
no shade. no shelter. aLone

like a pLucked flower
traMpled under a shoe
leFt in the sun to die

fear
fear
fear

what kiNd of gardener aRe you?
MOTHER

title? check
bible? check
love?

i know you love me
but
dO you
LOVE
mE
?

this is more than juSt a poem
this is a liFe
this is a souL waNting to grow a garden
this is a miLLioN thoughts
rolled into oNe

…the clarity
…the magnitude
…the possible balance of it all
& hoW a heart can still hope…


***
note:

it's funny how we have unread books on our shelves for years. and one day we start to read one and within the first chapter we open a pandora's box.

it's funny how we get things exactly when we need them.

it's funny how we deal with things and how they pop up again as we reach milestones or prepare for change.

it's funny how we repeat the mistakes of our mothers. even just with dogs...and what about children?

it's funny how honesty brings both pain and healing.

it's funny how all these thoughts are about one thing. & how a heart can still hope…

I love this.
It's a story painted from unmentionable's soul.
A carelessly flung flower, one of many many, yes indeed little sister.
Gentle unquietude. Rapt with unspeaken what is's. Indeed smilegirl, you are a garden in which we can all grow.
H

Bad Seed

Guilt as a constant drip of toxin
a constant flow of tears
a constant beat of blood
pounding behind my eyes
exhorting me to arise
to rise to the occasion
to fall upon my knees in shame
begging for any scrap to salve
that gnawing, angry pain
a constant burning drip
a ring of fire -- pass not beyond this point
for life is not a journey
but a downward spiral.
What could such an open, curious, loving child have done
to merit such punishment?

I am very grateful I had the chance to read your poem

sister I don't know the breaking point for trees

I call this my Hai tree, every winter I pass it and think it must be dead finally. But for so many years now it springs back to life

I feel like it is my totem

hester...thank you for your wise eye and your kind words. deeply.


laurie...i believe all things happen for a reason. and sometimes those things are cruel. but we can choose to grow from it or wallow in the pain. i use to feel guilty. about everything. i use to feel shame. pain. constant fear. not enough. none of that anymore. i am grateful for every life experience the universe sends me and the universe is grateful that i try to live it consciously. hopefully we'll get to some kind of understanding soon. heh.


still truckin...i thank yOu for taking the time to read this. i have much respect for people who can sit with "hard and ugly" and lift something beautiful out...like your Hai tree. it is indeed a totem. there is such beauty in imperfection isn't there. it's funny how the knocks make some of us stronger (survive longer), and breaks others. i guess it all depends on how stubborn you are & i bet that tree still have many years to sprout leaves...

"everything is perfect ..." - zen speak

honesty is the best writer and this is.

another good write, mj. enjoyed.

this is long and heavy
and light

I loved the beggining and the scrolling feeling while reading it!

I can´t think of myself as a wild flower, I guess I had two too-worried parents watching over me maybe too much! but I love jazmines here, they can grow almost everywhere in the city in somehow amazing disorder giving also green leaves & wild perfume half of the year (they only need a little earth & sun). Hermoso poema, gracias for sharing, girl!!!!!!!!!

Like the metaphor. I must be a wild flower too. Can't seem to make sense of it any other way. Dad and I drifted apart for so many years. Funny how we've been so much closer lately.

SmileGRL, we who were neglected as children know what it feels like to be truly alone. And yes the imprint of being abandoned is often carried with us through life. However, there is hope. Through relearning how to live we can transcend the imprint of our childhood. There is always hope. You have blossomed into a wonderful human being. I see hope in you for all who have wandered the lonely streets.

John

cecil..."everything is perfect." yes. thank you.


arcadia..."the scrolling feeling"...i like that. you are jasmin miss arcadia. thank you kindly.


nazz...yeah, family trauma brings people together again. or split them apart. it is what you make of it, my friend. whatever the outcome, we always survive , us wildflowers. hugz.


walt...yes, thank you for showing me the way again. i get lost sometimes. *she blows him a kiss & a smile*


john...you are my star. thank you john.