Time broke, And you were there, Black and white upon a screen, Seeming to tumble In time to the thump, thump From a machine.
Time split in half, And you were there, Barely a teen, Trying on a mountain of jeweled dresses Frowning and sighing. Finally smiling After reluctantly putting on a dress I asked, “Just try it, please?”
Time shattered, And there you were, Clattering down the hall, Your tiny toddler feet In my size nine heels.
Time wrecked, And there you were, An adolescent sleeping, Lips parted, A fist clutching a beloved stuffed bunny, So grown, yet so tiny still.
Time crumbled, And you were there In your toddler car seat, Sobbing, fat toddler tears For we had no food To give the homeless man on the corner. So, we drove through McDonald’s and bought a meal for him. Your tears stopped. You smiled as I handed him the meal. But the incongruity of your toddler voice admonished, “Next Sunday, after church, we need to buy a healthy meal And bring it to him. McDonald’s isn’t healthy to eat all the time.”
Time exploded, And there you were, Sitting in a swing, hands reaching for the sky; Crying in my arms, heart breaking for the first time; Laughing on Saturday morning, maple syrup running down your chin; Praying the Lord’s prayer in church, brow furrowed in toddler earnestness.
Time coalesced, Healing its broken, Shattered, Split, Wrecked, Crumbled, Exploded Self.
Time mended, Leaving us broken In its wake To find ourselves— Mother, aged And daughter, grown To know each other Again.
At sunrise over water, Remembering a dream Of finding ecstasy Within tears, Things neither given Nor felt in years, Linked by all the fears To form decades of a life Lived like a stranger In my own skin.
I have stood Since the dawn At this ocean’s edge Waiting, waiting. And now at noon The rain begins. Fierce pelting blows Washing me clean Of all I know Or dare to dream.
How do I even try?
Do I say it is the miles of years
Walking with shadows?
Seeing the scars that crisscross her arms,
I know she needs to know how I lived in shadows,
Of how it is to live with such fears
As the white noise of my mother’s voice,
Ever constant in my brain,
Of how it is I thought it
Protection I shrouded her within
To pretend there are only bright places.
My lies as answers
To her endless questions
Of how I have scars
Upon my back,
A legacy of a mother broken
By poverty from which she raised herself
To money and business
Only to have the wings of her dreams
Burned to cinders by the heat of circumstances,
Plummeting then to live once again within
The prison poverty made.
If only these colored leaves Of red and gold and orange Could be caught, Snatched gently By careful hands To be savored, arranged Somehow preserved, Rather than fall, lifeless Torn from their limbs By careless winds, Shoved to the ground With murderous violence To be trampled and ground to dust Or raked and bagged for trash Or better yet, If only these colored leaves Of gold and red and orange– Could stay filled with life And be always green.
This is a blog about my life. It's about much more than living with cancer. It's about reading books, cold water swimming, mothering, eating. All that stuff that people who don't have cancer do. If you're looking for my poems you need to go to fmmewritespoems.wordpress.com