oh.
she heard it
too-no waters
coursing, canyon
empty, sun
soundless-
and the beast
your life
nowhere
hiding (p. 103)
Tags: life love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying memoir mother grief conflict soul-searching mountains healing new-york dying poems daughters letting-go verse memoirs alcoholism cancer son grieving death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness love-and-hate grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son new-york-quarterly verses death-and-daughters dying-at-home verse-memoir
She has that voraciousness about children. She swoops in on them. Even I, in public was a beloved child. She'd parade me into town, smiling and teasing me, tickling me as she spoke with people on the sidewalks. When we got home, she'd trail off to her room like an unfinished sentence, and I would sit outside with my face pressed against her door, and replay the day in my head, searching for clues to what I had done to displease her.
I have one memory that catches in me like a nasty clump of blood. Marian was dead about two years, and my mother had a cluster of friends come over for afternoon drinks. For hours, the child was cooed over, smothered with red lipstick kisses, tidied up with tissues, then lipstick smacked again. I was suppose to be reading in my room, but I sat at the top of the stairs watching.
My mother finally was handed the baby, and she cuddled it ferociously. Oh, how, wonderful it is to hold a baby again! Adora jiggled it on her knee, walked it around the rooms, whispered to it, and I looked down from above like a spiteful little god, the back of my hand placed against my face, imagining how it felt to be cheek to cheek with my mother.
Tags: loneliness jealousy child mother childhood-memory baby dysfunctional-mother human-accessory
We smile but I want more. I want her to hug me.
M.J. HaylandI laugh with them because it is one of the worst things to be in a room full of people and not laughting when everybody else is.
M.J. HaylandTags: love smile mother laugh hug carry-me-down
That’s what love is like: mother of the greatest bliss and stepmother of the most tragic misery.
Stefanos LivosTags: happiness love sadness mother misery tragic bliss
I want to go back to the tell-me-again times when I slept in her bed and we were everything together. When I was everything to her. Everything she needed.
Erica Lorraine ScheidtTags: parents mother parents-and-children missing daughter mother-daughter
In my experience, anybody besides your mom that feeds you is going to want something in exchange for it.
Karen Marie MoningEvery woman is a gift when she becomes a daughter, Every woman is beautiful when she becomes a lover, Every woman is special when she becomes a wife, Every woman is a god when she becomes a Mother
Vivek ThangaswamyTags: women motherhood mother
Do you know, Mother, that Haj Salem was buried alive in his home? Does he tell you stories in heaven now? I wish I had had a chance to meet him. To see his toothless grin and touch his leathery skin. To beg him, as you did in your youth, for a story from our Palestine. He was over one hundred years old, Mother. To have lived so long, only to be crushed to death by a bulldozer. Is this what it means to be Palestinian?
Susan AbulhawaTags: death mother palestine palestinians
Acceptance is to love and embrace everything that we find within ourselves like a mother embraces her child.
Swami Dhyan GitenTags: love acceptance child spirituality mother meditation
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