Mother, pt.1
details of my life
are connected
by strands of hair
in my sons fingertips
lastly, I will say nothing
time travels across
the ever expanding universe
a stopwatch never put in place
mind splitting numbness
wrist wringing tears
blood
slips downwards
thick
cherry droplets
I am my mothers daughter, but what will
it mean in the
end?
her voice in my head
her laughter dries up and blows away
into her body
ashen,
dusty
even before death
I am my mothers daughter
will that mean plaque ridden arteial damage
as my grey matter
clings to life
by threads
so I can search for meaning and know absolutely nothing
from one
second until
the next?
I am my mothers daughter,
but what good is that to me
if she is
already dead?
6 comments
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March 8, 2008 at 8:16 pm
Poetikat
Ah, Birdy (can I call you that?), I can relate to this experience, but would be, “I am my father’s daughter”. He has Parkinson’s and dementia as the result of a head injury. I have always been very like him in personality, but now he is someone completely different…already gone. What a great poem! I’m sure it will touch a lot of people.
Kat
March 9, 2008 at 6:44 am
Sara
mind splitting numbness
wrist wringing tears
blood
slips downwards
thick
cherry droplets
wow. This poem is wonderfully crafted. The lines I’ve pasted here are my favorite for their vivid imagery.
March 24, 2008 at 12:05 pm
A Tear Forgotten
Some beautiful imagery there.
I was thinking about my father yesterday, while talking to my uncle. I wish he could’ve been around to share in my adult life.
Your mother is a very special person. She loves you very much.
April 22, 2008 at 9:16 am
Rob Kistner
I love the refrain of “I am my mother’s daughter” as the poem searches for real connection between he two. Very engaging and poignant… well written!
Rob
Image & Verse
April 28, 2008 at 2:03 am
birdsword
Thanks everyone for your comments. I appreciate them greatly. Again I have stumbled upon not really writers block, but that other thing that Virginia Woolf wrote about-A Room of One’s Own. I am having a hard time finding-time. I try to write in my journal, or even a quick poem on the computer but that has been more difficult lately.
May 17, 2008 at 5:51 am
qazse
I think this is a beautifully expressive poem.