Father died when I was 16.
Done. Finalized. But he had died to me long before, perhaps when I was 2 or 3. I don’t remember.
And mother,
She was in constant reincarnation. Flux and flow.
At 6 – she was my hero.
At 10 – my torturer.
By 12 – we were strangers.
At 16 – I couldn’t wait to get away.
By 19 – A betrayer. Broom sticks and bloody knuckles. Years of silence.
At 22 – I searched for God beneath her feet. Humility turned humiliation.
A year later, I lost my mind and she helped me find it.
25 – we switched sides. I the preparator and she the victim.
27 – I became a mother – healing wounds so they would not become inherited.
30 – She threatened what was most sacred.
At 32 – the all too familiar emptiness, the silence of abandon.
My father died twice, my relationship with my mother many more times.
Sometimes, I feel so scattered because I’m looking for the love of a mother in the hands, ears, embraces, and pockets of near strangers.

902 am

Patterns repeat,
Patterns repeat,
Head under water,
Trapped under feet,
Words like fists
Attacks, fusillade
Lovers like mothers
Make them a father
A ghost of a being
Verb blows go
Pistols loaded
Choice removed
Stuck in the groove
A glimmer of paradise
Dante lost
We are nothing
Yet, patterns repeat
Patterns repeat
A need unmet
Thirst unquenched
Search for the peace
No recompense
Patterns repeat
Patterns repeat

2:40 am


Autumn kisses the spots of my skin turned goose,
Lessons of solitude – alone,
Better company than I had 1 year ago.
Autumn says the Winter will soon consume –
Bitter winds, dancing freeze.
It is a time to reflect, dissect, and disconnect.

8:00 am