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HeartbeatBe still. The words I thought of when you were ill. I prayed with you every night, then God let me feel your heartbeat. Time was collecting your bloodflow. Heartbeat. Repeat, repeating the pain I felt that day when cousin' came in and said,"God took your mother up today."I was nine years old. You died about two weeks before my birthday. All I got was, packed up cardboard boxes with scotched taped ribbon that glistened in the sun as we made room for it in storage. Stored heartbeats. No one could take your place. The sad thing is I barely remember your face. Chemo. You had to take all those tests, and in the end they still cut off your left breast. Heartbeat. Time finally took your breath. Time ended our time. Why was it that after you died the doctor's found a cure to this genocide? I wish you were still here by my side. I was your baby. I asked the doctor if you were going to live, and all I got was, "maybe." Maybe you might come back someday. You used to appear all the time but then you drifted away. Heartbeat. I saw you laying in red. That red that, filled my eyes with hopelessness. I wished that red were still hanging in your closet in the dry cleaners bag, and the your aroma were in the stiches. After 7 years, I still can't believe you're dead. Even though you're not here, I think about you everydat. I ask a question that every child asks. "Why did God take my mother away?" Heartbeat. Time has finished this poem.
Why7 years ago, I lost you. Stopped the tears and engraved my mothers name into my arm to get rid of the pain, and remind me that this custom made tattoo would last forever. Haven't seen you in years. Why the hell aren't you doing your job? The one you thought would love you the most when you showed her how the needle worked. Injections, you, detected my fear as you dared me to a sample. So, I injected your seringe-based love into the veins of the center of my arm, and I loved every, single,dose. But then I soon snapped back into reality when I realized I was diving into hell with my father. Daughter, yours I am supposed to be, but I guess you can't handle what you donated to my mother. Why the hell aren't you being my father? Is it because I don't have your features? Your heartless ways or your dumb mistakes? I have your height, and, since you're not here, I guess you feel so small to where I should stomp you into the ground like a cigarette butt; one puff and i'm tired of you. Why can't you accept me for Kimani? Is it because I chose not to let you mistreat me the way you did my sister? Or is it because the middle name you gave me doesn't fit me at all? Kichonne. But, never again will I be called by that name, for it reminds me of the way you used to treat me, like trash. I bet you, no, I know for a fact that if I was in the need of blood,you wouldn't give me one drop. You'd probably watch me die and say, "You were never my daughter anyway." Why can't you be a man? Step up and say, "I messed up", and try to be in my life again. Why? Is it because I look like my mother? Beautiful brown sugar coated skin with about 2% mexican? But, you won't dare look at me. Is it because, when she died you were not allowed to the funeral? But I saw you standing at the door, and I had shame on my face because I couldn't cry on your shoulder. Why does it have to be this way? But, I want you to know that, if I died,you would be allowed to my funeral,just so you could see how your absence killed me. And when we're reincarnated, we will be father and daughter again, and you will love me for me. Why dont you love me?