Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Here,
In the dark,
Dear one,
There is peace,
And most often quiet,
But you are missing nothing,
But my audible silence
As I write this poem,
As I think these thoughts,
As I coax myself toward slumber
And alas,
Once my eyelids have grown heavy,
And my writing utensil drops,
I close up “shop,”
And I too
Go
To sleep
I look at our daughter
And I see
Me,
I see
You,
I see
Us.
But the world,
Petty and shallow
Sees only monochrome,
Sees not the sunken space under eye that is
Me,
AND the straight chestnut hair
That is you,
The smile like cupids bow
From me
The sharp eyebrow arch from you,
The cheeks,
The small ears– Of my father
The chin,
The height,
The perfect creation
In combination of us,
Can’t they see?
Can’t they see?
Can’t they see beyond
Black,
And white?
Yes, they are Colorblind,
To
The spectrum,
To hues never before seen,
The hues that were made from you AND me.
The hue that is, she.
They’ll deny me,
Deny you,
Deny us “parent,”
Because they cannot dare to see,
What is right in front of them,
Dare to believe,
Dare to accept
Together,
Us.
To become, I must go,
To come, I must go,
To places elsewhere,
On this plane,
In this eternity,
I must seek, so I may find,
This is a journey,
I was, and was not expecting to take,
My departure has arrived,
But know I shall return,
For you are my heart,
Now being pulled away,
But never severed from my soul,
My heart is big enough, full enough,
To take you with me,
Even when we are apart,
Distance cannot quell my love,
As the cosmos,
It is endless and withstanding time,
But I must go,
For moments merely,
That I know feel like eternities,
For that is how it feels to me,
Know that nothing
Could hold me back,
From returning to you,
For you are my being,
In a separate body,
My precious, beloved child,
No, Nothing,
Not Ice and snow,
Nor hurricane gale,
Nor hellfire,
Nothing love,
No,
Nothing.
I don’t know
How to do what I am doing
–Fake it till you make it,
But each age changes the game,
And I am back to square one,
Learning
Learning how to be the teacher,
Who vaguely knows the lesson,
A novice at the most important task,
Of raising up the babies,
But this is how it goes,
As even the seasoned
Don’t really know,
We learn from our mistakes,
And oh there are many!
We learn from the wisdom
The innocence of youth bestows,
We learn,
We learn,
And then we learn again
10/22/2018
She sings of sunshine,
with my voice,
only smaller,
made innocent,
made new.
She sings with a new voice
–her voice,
she sings,
and all the doubts
that may fill me
dissipate.
I am doing this
–tending my flower,
her song lifts me,
and her sun shines
these fears away.
On the edge of
15.
Pick a job
Any job
What would you like to be?
Career?
Your life.
Choose it.
Pick, pick, pick
Pick pick
Tick, tick, tick
Choose wisely.
Sign,
Here.
And here.
You like to do that thing that you mentioned,
that I wasn’t listening to,
and doesn’t matter because you can’t
make money, money,
money, doing
That
Here?
Thing
Here, here
Here, just take this and that,
and all those, and fill, and sign, here
And here,
And you had a question?
I couldn’t-
Here
Here
Here
And Here
Here you’ll find that anything you do has a paper trail
Change?
No, None here
Here the ink is permanent
That would waste too much
Time to work, work.
Now what was your occupational activity?
Oh yes, that one.
It doesn’t make much money, money
But somehow you’ll have to
Pay at the front,
We accept cash, credit, stocks, bonds, blood
Money to live
To learn,
Money for true happiness
For a good education,
Picket fence,
Marital bliss,
A dog, a house, a car,
2.5 kids.
What? You chose
See page 2000,
Its standard contractual arrangement,
See,
And you’ve already completed parts 4, 5, and 6
A change in the contract brings us back here
We’ve put you together,
Now we must tear you apart.
Now the parts you didn’t read,
You should have before!
No! No tears! There’s no time,
Hurry, you’re a mother,
An adult,
You’re about to be 30!
Now all you have are debts,
Your accomplishments
P(no school, past jobs, and your children don’t count),
Your finances,
Your failures,
Your reason for these claims,
Let’s spread them out.
Trauma? Relive every moment,
and then we’ll “figure something out”.
Childcare? No.
That’s something you must arrange
Should have been better prepared,
For this
For life. You don’t live and learn,
You best just know,
Count the cards just don’t get caught,
This is life,
the luck of the draw,
with notarized agreements.
Ok, you’re complete. Welcome to 30.
Please gather your child, your memories, triumphs, and trials,
and move back half your life,
to 15.
Next.
She of Letters 