Monthly Archives: June 2015

Kindling


In the beginning,

you thought you knew

what love was.

We felt it;

that scorching, all-consuming excitement.

The thing that makes you think,

“This person is my everything.”

We were fools.

It was love, yes-

in it’s birthing stage.

Messy. Squalling. Ignorant.

I know that now.

If it had been stable love,

we would never have said

all those terrible things

we said to each other;

we would never have

treated each other so unspeakably.

 

There were times,

a good while later,

when you were not my favorite person.

In fact, I despised you.

I know.

I ask myself the same question:

“How can you loathe someone you love?”

Beats me.

But you can.

You felt the same at times.

I could see it when you wouldn’t look at me.

It didn’t feel like love anymore,

and we both doubted.

But then,

within  the smoldering pile of ashes

left from our rabid inferno,

a single spark, a memory,

left us clinging to each other

in the midst of our woeful rhapsody.

 

The hurts healed,

slowly.

Sometimes painfully.

The ugly scars were made beautiful

because we knew the agony

of the recovery.

You  didn’t look at me

the way you once did,

back in the infancy of Us.

I missed that,

but I was comforted

in the knowing that we chose Us.

That flame seemed cooler

than it once had been,

but more steady.

Instead of self-preservation,

we learned to

give ourselves away to one another.

We never even noticed

when our Selves melted into one.

I guess the blaze was hotter than we thought.

 

Now,

we are both wiser.

Love, you say?

I laugh.

We’ve barely scratched the surface

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Family, Life, Love, Poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

Contemplating Motherhood


IMG_0854_TranquilI always said I would be a good  no, a great mother if I ever had kids.

Well, I have one now, and I’m starting to think I might have not had a fucking clue what the hell I was talking about.

I don’t find myself rambling on non-stop to every ear willing to listen about my son’s sleeping habits, bodily functions, learning progress, etc. Of course, I tell them if they ask, but when people ask, “How’s the little one?” I am quite at a loss for words, and stumble around in my head frantically searching for the right words I’m supposed to say. My response is usually- “He’s good. He’s the cutest baby in the world. He’s a happy boy.” People look at me after I’ve said so, waiting for me to add more. What else is there to say? He’s a baby. He sleeps a lot and cries when he’s hungry.

Then there are the times my Babe and I are at home. Of course I read to him, which he seems to relish, perhaps because I do all the voices. I give him the recommended Tummy Time, despite the fact that he came out holding his head up and possessing of legs pretty much strong enough to walk on. We go for walks sometimes, during which I worry that the cracks in the city sidewalks are bad enough to cause shaken baby syndrome. I feed him when I’m supposed to, and play with him so I can see his adorable smile; but then I hear these women talking about how much they love babies and always want to hold theirs, never wanting to put them down. I put mine down. In fact, the only time I hold him is to feed him, read to him, and occasionally cuddle profusely with him. But what I wonder is: do all those women obsessed with their babies have maids? Because I have a house to clean, and a dog to take care of, and a yard full of flowers to take care of, and how the hell am I supposed to hold my baby all the time when I have all that shit to do?

I don’t look ahead and think to myself that, “Oh, hey! I’m going to want another one of these little papooses in a couple of years so this one has someone to play with, or so I have another baby to hold.”  I love him to bits, and I want him to grow up to be a strong, respectable man, but how could I possibly love another one when this one has my whole heart? Even if he did make me completely miserable the entire time he was growing inside me. And I already want him to be 2 or 3, so he can talk back to me and I can at least understand him.

I haven’t dropped him on his head, but neither do I gingerly hold him as if he might break the way my Rockstar does. I don’t like to see his sad face, but when he cries when he’s not hungry, I don’t immediately pick him up, and I tell him he doesn’t need to fuss, because I know he’s faking it. I know this, because during these times, I walk over to him and start singing “Somebody to Love” and his little fake cries turn into squeals followed by smiles. At least he has good taste in music.

Honestly, the only proof that I have at least one motherly bone in my body is the plethora of pictures that have filled up my phone and my Facebook wall.

I’m not even sure my Rockstar finds me to be motherly, since he asked me why do I have to cart the baby around all over the place. I just thought I was acclimating him to the general public. And I thought him being with me was better than leaving him with a babysitter….

I suppose I’ll not really feel like a mother completely until he gets old enough to actually call me “Mommy”. I guess if he believes it, then there’s no reason to doubt it.

IMG_0923_Color

 

2 Comments

Filed under Children, Family, Humor, Life, Love, Photography, Uncategorized

I’ll Ask You Only


Writer, teacher, student, daughter,

introvert, lover, poet, scholar.

All these describe you, but in the end,

I’ll ask you only to be my Friend.

 

A person who shares my deepest sorrows

and comforts me with fresh tomorrows.

One to who, I too, can lend a hand

when the ground around you is sinking sand.

 

Your passions, above all, I beg that you reveal;

and every stir of your soul they make you feel.

Your worries, also, please always expose;

my duty as Friend is to lighten that load.

 

Times of madness, times of brilliance,

ideas, wishes, dreams, experience.

Heavens and hells, comings and goings,

I pray you have these to overflowing.

 

The hurts will happen; don’t quake, Dear Heart!

They arise to make you more stalwart.

Without anguish, we would never see the Light.

Without pain, blessings wouldn’t burn nearly as bright.

 

The delights of your life I hope are so many

they drown out the heartaches you have, if any.

The tears you shed, some will be sad,

but with my help, joyful ones even more will be had.

 

We two, so different, and yet just the same

walk paths unalike, play contrasting games.

Our lives go on, ever changing, but in the end,

I ask you only to stay my Friend.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8 Comments

Filed under Beauty, Family, Friendship, Life, Love, Poem, Poetry, Uncategorized