PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She raised me,

Nurtured me as best she could,

Even though there are many things I debate.



I was a child,

Fractured from abuse,

She didn't know about.



I was lonely,

Because she couldn't talk to me,

To draw me out,

And how I wanted to confide in her.

But I could not venture into the darkroom,

Where she battled cluster migraines and back aches.



When she was well,

She helped many people,

People who NEEDED help,

My problems were probably too small,

Or so I thought.

Then again,

I didn't know how to tell her,

That her best friend,

Was killing my soul.



I asked constantly,

"Mother, when I was growing up,

Did you ever see a hollow child?"

She thinks back,

"I saw a child who had a muse to entertain herself."

She couldn't see the monsters through my drawings.



I question her guidance of my brother,

Who never really lived with us as a family unit,

After age five.



But with all her faults,

I accept her...

She did the best she could,

At that time,

With what she knew of the facts at hand.



I was a child,

Knowing only as a child,

She was a first time parent,

Raising me,

Paving pathways in a strange territory.

Children are different,

And are not born with instruction manuals.



I don't understand how she disowned me,

If but for a moment, for being lesbian.

As I could not disown my memories,

Of her reading me books,

Of birthday parties at school,

Of her pride when I won art and writing contests.



But she learned,

I learned,

And we are still learning.

We may not understand eachother,

But with the death of my father,

We have learned to hold eachother up.



There are many things I don't understand,

But I love...

I love and would never turn my back on her,



MY MOTHER



For whom I have shared my childhood,

With whom I have shared divorce and tragedy,

The death of her father and mother...husband.

The death of my grandfather, grandmother...father.

With whom I have shared my joys as well as my sorrows.



We have shared more than a past,

We have shared a life...one body.



How can I ever say "Thank-you" enough for my life.



Inspite of being vastly different,

With many ideas and thoughts,

Incongruent and often times at odds with eachothers...



I DON'T UNDERSTAND...

BUT I ALWAYS LOVED