Family Myraid

Inspired by my amazing grandmother

4 years 6 months and a day - I have not spoken a word. The

corners of my bed define the purple sky where the pink and thistle

mocking birds fly. Olive greens and orange daffodils dress me

today. They smell of bitter honey and brown drops of  caramelized coffee.

Kids? I had 7. He promised me the rosy world and I gave up mine,

shooting tiny stars out of my coral womanly womb. Grandchildren?

More than my mind can count. Under the layers of bleach,

I sit atop the mattress that cores my red. I used to sing the shadows

away. Now I watch the gray world pass by me. Ivory walls with

hypnotizing indigo drawings. I see their work more than their

peachy looks. They see their work more than my hazel eyes. I've not
seen my face in 4 years 6 months and 2 days. I see only the devil.

The lines paint my story. This one on my thigh represents an

effort, golden ages ago, to impress the sweet invalid on the left,

who now walks with one leg, pees through a tube and lives on

a tiny orange bottle of pills. The navy cadet I adore now counts

the digits, in rows of four, every cadmium sunrise. He thinks he will

win the turquoise world and make good his promise. Idiot. This

one at the corner of my eye comes from the littlest. When she

moved, the vacuum drew a stream for the crystal rivers. This last

one between my milk machines is favorite. Ignore the nipples,

abused and chewed up in burly love. This line, now sienna, burns

still. It conceals proof that they chose to give me life. Parts

of me is laced with silver silver, parts with steel steel but the

bisque pacemaker is best. It represents the fuchsia unity I long

for so dearly. There is little opportunity for that now. But soon

they will buy a box, together, that sends me to the fiery gardens.

I don’t think they know my favorite color.

Tomorrow, Please

I have always been loving you. When you drew your first breath
in my arms, I touched a miracle. You made
physical pain feel indescribably amazing.
When you took your first steps
into my embrace, I witnessed light. You wobbled
towards me with hands outstretched and from
your eyes, I saw trust -the first in your circle. It was
enthralling. When you first held my hand and planted a kiss
on my cheek, I felt love.
When you first called my name, "Mama!",
I heard music. My innocent sweetheart, you are a work of God's.
I am Mama.

Remember how you used to come back to me everyday?
The sweetest voice is never too far off the motorized
clink-clank of the yellow metal capsule. "Mummy!"
and suddenly, the sun shines a little brighter, the grass grew a
little taller and the flowers bloom a little bigger.
I remember when you told me you got a gold star for
English. I wore my pride as a badge atop my motherly
breasts. I remember when I was called to school to
watch you receive your awards. I clapped loudest in that
auditorium. I cheered longest. The moment captured, framed and
proudly displayed on our mantle. My little genius, you are a work of God's.
I am mummy.

I recollect when yoou wanted to be a princess -
puffy green dresses, silver tiaras, golden glitter and fairy wings.
You were celestial.
Then, fashion changed and princesses were dressed with
blood red lips, black eyeliner, mini skirts and cropped tops.
You were celestial.
I recollect when you would come home and weep. "Mum".
Girls can be a mean bunch. Boys make you miserable.
As I heard the sniffles of your door, my heart pounded with you.
As I heard the whimper of your room, my heart cried with you.
As I heard the exclamation of your tears, my heart broke with you.
My stained-faced child, you are a work of God's.
I am mum.

I'll always love you. As you heave through the ventilators
in my arms, I wished for a miracle. Your silence make
the pain in my chest feel almost unbearable.
When you threw yourself into my embrace and I heard
the empty bottle rattle on, I longed for light. You wobbled
towards me with hands outstretched and from
your eyes, I saw the life seeping out of your soul like
the white froth at the corner of your mouth. It was
fear I never could imagine. When you held my hand and planted a kiss
on my cheek, I prayed for salvation.
When you gasped my name, "ma",
I cried for mercy. My broken perfection, you are a work of God's.
Who am I if not for you?

My baby, please do not go today.

Drink Up!

Never been happier for color vision;

never been happier for coloring in a bowl

for it represents regaining life or the lack thereof.

And I've never been so glad for pain.

A day ago, sight was depressing

The moon mocked, the stars gossiped, the

bed disapproved, the table reminded, the food

stung, the drinks smug, the pen whispered,

the paper scorn, the people bled.

And I wept.

And I wept

because I needed fluids that sweat won’t cut.

I wept because of the act that I did, that I

consciously did, that was common and normal and

perfect in almost every other context than what I was in.

I need a drink.

My lips were cracking but I couldn’t care less.

My pair seemed to be fissuring as I was careless.

So hydrated before with his drink yet now so desiccated.

Thank god for water.

Yes, thank God.

I have no religion but I prayed.

Desperate? Yes.

The only things that got me through was his faith with me

and my faith in Him.

I pled for my ancestors to look over me and I saw no angels

with wings but I’m glad they did.

Of course, this could all be in my head.

But if anyone is up there, here is a toast.

Love you, thank you and let’s drink up!

Oh yes, make it red wine please.

Pushing buttons

Stop pushing my button-

my belly button.

It belongs to me.

Have you forgotten?

You remember the time when

it once connected us.

We shared a cord that

wrapped and strangled as I gasp.

It was snipped and we cried;

You, tears of joy.

I, tears of loss.

And to the womb I waved goodbye.

For a good decade, you held my hand

and it connected us.

We shared a bond that

made us smile and laugh and smile again.

It was relaxed and we were unaware;

You, busy with life.

I, busy planning life.

And out of your protection, the dangers I bare.

Twenty years went by so soon; too soon.

and it alerted us.

But we shared a tie that

remains even if either one was on the moon.

It was invisible and we lost sight;

You, fear of loss.

I, fear of captivity.

And I struggle hard from the restrains you hold tight.

You there! Hey! Stop pushing my button!

My belly button.

Proof of our relations.

On common ground we stand, all is forgiven.

Foreign

It's squirming in my tummy.

Revolting little brat!

I clobber it with fists of fury

to remove the regret.

The constant reminder of his face

resides deep inside.

It sickens me that his residue, his waste

is filling me tight.

What was I thinking?

My brain clearly on a break

and it took over with speed of lightning,

laughing at my sake.

A moment of carelessness, that

was it.

Our eyes, we met.

Church bells ring.

I punched it hard. Get out!

Get out!

The promises I vowed,

now doubt

but it’s all too late.

Its life; my life.

No time to wait.

I dive.

Like quicksand, it consumes me whole.

It screams in my ears; louder as it grows.

It clouds my head with unique frequencies.

Never such a phenomenon. What trickery is this?

If only I knew how to stop the love.

Deafening silence

From a mother's diary about her deaf child

Tick tock. Tick tock ring.
Ring. Riinng. Riiinnng!
Yawn. Splitting headache.
Riiiinnnng! I jump to my feet,
Rub my eyes and wipe the
wetness on the ends of my gown.
Birds are chirping outside, mocking
me; mocking her and her lack of sound.

She sleeps peacefully beside,
a smile on her face.
I use one so often, it's a tool
just a hand stretch away.
I stroke her hair and carcass her cheek.
I smell her scent; she smells
like the soap I use. I listen to her
breathing, as sweet as church bells.

She used to be special, not abnormal, until
her certified protector went insane.
My ring represented his promises but
now embodies her suffering and my pain.
I regret the first push that gave her
life. I regret the final push that took
it. Her piercing scream; her last word
eloped with my ability to look
through dry eyes. Sniff.

I snapped out of my daze. Riiinnng!
A myriad of noises all around me.
Yet, her silence is most deafening.

SYF 2011

You look ahead and see your mother.
Daddy is holding onto your waist,
Clutching it as if he meant to choke you.
Uncomfortable feeling. You shake to break loose.

You inch your way forward, alone.
You fear of falling down. You raise
Your arms for balance. Eyes focused on mama.
You inch your way forward, alone.

You hear the encouragements slowly die down.
People gossip behind you, putting you down,
Talking about how slow you are.
Your siblings are afraid you bring down the family name.

You persevered and fought on.
Tears dripped and music came out from your mouth.
And when you reach out for mummy,
Your aunt picks you up and everyone cheers.