|      two       |          |   a nation   |
|      twin      |          |   built on   |
|    towers    |          | ideals and |
|    rising      |          |  grandest   |
|    so high   |          | immigrant |
|    up into   |          |    dreams    |
|    the sky   |          | (and yes...   |
|    repre-     |          |   on slave    |
|    senting   |          |   labor too)  |
|    soaring   |          |    a nation    |
|   ambition  |         |  of mighty   |
|   & wealth  |         |  paradoxes  |
-------------------------------------------------­-----------

                       and then
                      ...BOOM...
                  world changed


             all                              all        
        reduced     ­                broken    
      to heaping                 by hateful  
    piles of rubble          brainwashed
  and raw emotion     men drowned in
tears & fears & rage.tears & fears & rage
------------------------------------------------------------­


we rose from the ashes
united in mourning
national pride swelling
emotions still swirling

we warmly embraced
neighbors and friends
overwhelmed with grief
paralyzed by anguish

we explosively cursed
those enemies who'd hurt us
simmering in anger
engulfed in fiery rage

we boldly surged into war
to defend and protect
blinded by our deep-set fears
dead-set on vengeance

we let the years pass
we still remember
we still recover
we still rebuild

we still rise

from what is clear
but to where?

please let us be wise

Nymphets like me grow up,
and guess what?
I am not any scared or scarred
In a parallel world,
Angela invited Lester to her wedding day
and it's realer than death
There's nothing to heal - no sight of old pain

Am I really strong?
I am not sorry - I am not hurt
Even if I did break a few hearts
This nymphet got a job and she dyed her hair
She got to her destination -
but she's not done yet!

And I might have to leave
all of those nymphet, stylish things
no more daddies on the scene
but my inner fire still burns deep
let me resignify what I mean
when I wear my heart shaped glasses
when I feel all pink
that's eternal, it has no age or anything

It's true, I am not ******* anymore.
Isn't that a whole lot more fun?
I am a full woman now
and I am not backing down
(I always was this, waiting to come out)
So I look in the mirror,
and my inner nymphet eyes back,
"you're doing fine, I am proud of who you are"

i carry my mother’s rage
in every part of me;

i am never without it

i carry my mother’s rage
just like her mother did,
and just like her mother also did


if destruction is a form of creation,
then my mother
was never an inventor.

I am not a mother
And for that reason,
It wouldn't be fair for me to speak to the frustration you must feel having a child who just couldn't ever get it all together.
I cannot remember the times as a baby where you consoled me without anger.
I cannot fathom that there was a moment in my life where you held me and rocked me to sleep without feeling like I somehow owed you something.
I cannot speak to how many nights you spent awake crying because I kept you awake and all you needed was just a few hours of sleep to keep going.
I cannot recall these things, but I think, I hope, that you were the kind of mother back then, who did it all.
I am not a mother
I do not know the kind of disappointment that having a 29 year old child living at home must bring.
I do not always get things right
I do not always pull my weight and I don't pay your bills and I see the way you clench your fists and sigh everytime I have anything to say back about your demands.
I am far from perfect
I have caused so much pain over the years and believe me I know,
I haven't made loving me very easy.
But I am not YOUR mother.
It is not my job to regulate your emotions.
I am not obligated to take your side in every argument even when I know you are wrong.
Because sometimes, you ARE wrong.
I am your daughter
I have tried my whole life to make you proud, to prove to you I am worthy of your love, even though I am no longer a "child".
Sometimes it works
You give me your love when it's easy.
When I do something you can brag about to your friends.
You love me when it's convenient,  for YOU.
Then again, a mother's love isn't supposed to be conditional
The silent treatment only makes me fold further into my own skin.
Your back handed comments about everything I don't do, and how I should be so grateful to have a roof over my head, only breeds more resentment and hurt inside of me.
I know I am lucky
I know that so many other families have it worse and that from the outside looking in, we are this perfect family.
The thing is, no one is perfect,  not even you
I never expected you to be a perfect mother, a perfect mother does not exist.
I expected you try.
I expected you to teach me how to love myself before anyone else because I am deserving of it.
I expected you to be there for me when things were falling apart, without judgement, or anger, or guilt.
You never loved yourself either
And my heart hurts to think about the stories of your childhood.
Your own mother could never give you the love you deserved.
But I NEEDED you to break the cycle
I needed you to ask for help.
I needed you to recognize that you have caused a lot of hurt for me too.
I needed you to want to change.
To this day, you've never gotten the treatment you so desperately needed
I'm not saying this to be mean
I'm saying this because none of us are immune to trauma and if it's not dealt with, the cycle continues.
Unfortunately,  I am now part of this cycle too
I cannot help but think that if you had only gotten the help you needed when I was younger, I wouldn't need to be the one in treatment for trauma.
I cannot help but wonder what our relationship could have been like today, had you faced your own demons and fought them, like the warrior I know you can be.
But I know,
I am not a mother.
I am under your control.
It is how you like it.
How you need it to be.
I am not a mother.
I am silenced.

the kindness of Christian does not leave
the Moslem or Jew to starve
but in feeding both-
tell the Moslem
to eat in his mosque
and the Jew
to eat in his synagogue
for while this food is healthy and good,
for Christian, Moslem, and Jew to share
syncretism will poison
your Christianity
thank one another, but eat as you worship
apart from one another