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Penny Laine Jun 2020
I will raise a better daughter than my mother did
I will raise a daughter who has a voice that cannot be muzzled
a daughter who does not measure her self worth with a scale
a daughter who will not let a man speak down to her, even her own father
a daughter who does not back down because she's told to
a daughter who does not need to hide her moments of weakness to protect those who should have protected her
a daughter who puts herself first
a daughter who wants her mind to out weigh her beauty
adaughter who does not think that her place is a slave to a man
I will raise a daughter in a way God did not create my family to raise a woman
I will raise the kind of daughter I wish my mother raised me to be
Alek Mielnikow Jun 2020
A mother sits on the edge
of a hospital bed with her
baby daughter lying on her lap.

The air throughout the hospital
is suffocating, stifling with the
stench of filth and death.

The walls amplify and echo the
anguish of women and children,
and jets fly somewhere overhead.

But she tries to sing a lullaby
through her parched throat
beneath her grubby niqāb. The skin
and bones that make her frame
cannot sway the child for comfort.

She cannot feed her; even if her
******* could provide sustenance,
the child’s sickness would puke it
back up. She craves to cry for God
to spare her little one, but her
bloodshot, sunken eyes no longer
produce tears. All she can offer is
her lullaby, the same one she sang
to all her children. All that remains
of them and their father are fragments,
scattered throughout dirt and debris,
blown to bits a week ago by a blast
in her village. When the only one left
became sick, she started the trek to
the nearest hospital. The journey
greeted her with dust and unbearable
heat, with the agony of an empty
stomach, with a child in misery and
excreting white diarrhea. And when
she finally reached the hospital, the
doctors could not provide treatment.

The disease had progressed too far,
and they did not have the means to
save her daughter. So she sits on a
hospice bed, surrounded by other
sickly and starving bodies, singing a
lullaby. Soon the child closes her eyes
and stops breathing, a thick white
drool leaking down her cheek. Her
mother wipes it away.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)
This poem depicts a bit of the horrific circumstances that are taking place regularly in Yemen. According to the UN, Yemen is suffering the worst humanitarian crisis in the world, with 80% of its citizens requiring humanitarian aid. And it is only getting worse.

The Saudi-led intervention in Yemen, backed by rich allies such as the United States and the United Kingdom, is committing war crimes. They are targeting innocent civilians with missiles (including some that many countries have banned the use of), and though this includes destroying hospitals and schools, it also includes peaceful villages and the encampments of 3 million displaced persons, unrelated to the Civil War that is being waged. They are targeting infrastructure (for example, gas stations and bridges) that make basic functioning arduous, if not impossible. And they are using a blockade to deny the passage of food and aid into the country. This blockade has perpetuated one of the worst cholera outbreaks ever (which is the “illness” the baby in this poem has). And it has left 20 million people facing food insecurity, with half of them being acutely food insecure. (Some are comparing this deliberate military tactic of famine to The Holodomor, the Ukranian Genocide of 1932-33).

And on top of facing starvation, succumbing to disease, or getting blown to pieces, they are also facing Covid-19 drastically limited resource, which is spreading at an alarming rate.

I titled this poem Forgotten because multiple sources that I’ve read about this crisis point out how the situation in Yemen is being largely ignored. And this ignorance will lead to the unfortunate end of millions of innocent people.

I don’t want that to happen.

In order for us to aid the Yemeni people, the conflict that is occurring needs to end. This can happen a number of ways. I will focus my part in what I can do to get the US Government (where I live) to stop supplying arms to the Saudi-led intervention. I have little influence in the political sphere, and if there’s anyone reading this who could throw a more powerful swing at it, please do. But I will let my readers know if there’s anything they can help me with, such as signing a letter/petition.

But we cannot rely on the conflict resolving when it is such a complex situation with interweaving influences and leaders who are committing or are complicit in atrocities. As such, the other thing we need to do is offer as much aid as we can. In the bio of my Instagram account, @alekthepoet,  there’s a link to multiple non-profits trying to help, and each link takes you to a page that offers more information on Yemen’s situation. Please donate what you can. I cannot offer much, and yet I scrounged up some money and will donate what I can as well (I am donating to Save The Children). Each website also offers more ways in which you can help, so if you have the time please look into that and see if there’s more you can do.

Please do what you can to help the Yemen people. They don’t deserve to be forgotten by us. Please share this information and post to make sure it doesn’t happen.
Gigi Jun 2020
Little girl will you come play with me?
These men you seek are not as they seem
Your hand is too close to that stove burning ever so bright
Little girl please stay close to my light

Little girl will you come play with me?
I can't see you behind the neon colored gleam
You need attention from the man in the white coat
Little girl hold me tight before you begin to float

Little girl will you come play with me?
It seems that I lost you while I was escaping in my dreams
You let me forget I was the reason for your good and bad
Little girl please let me in so I can take away your sad

Little girl will you come play with me?
Your dark rims reveal eyes that can't scream
Allow me to check in so I can finish my job
Little girl open that door unlock the ****

Little girl will you come play with me?
This time could be like old but we're on different teams
You hiss at my pride to which I ignore
Little girl I left because you would not open the door

Little girl will you come play with me?
I failed as your mother and I want to be redeemed
For a child is a child despite the height
Little girl I'm ready to be your daughter this night
Jodey Ross Jun 2020
As I lay here, the two of you beside me, I feel at peace. And though I can't sleep with all of the thoughts running through my brain, I feel as if I don't even need to. You both give me the strength to keep going. I know that fights happen. I know that things get tough, and money gets tight, and days get tiresome, but I also know that I will always have a place to call home. A place where I can finally rest my eyes and collapse mindlessly into a warm embrace that will mend all of the wounds I may have had. I have never felt such love for anyone until I met you, Adam. I never thought I could feel safe to let my heart run to someone again until you beckoned it your way. And I know this all sounds stupid and maybe it's because I'm sleep deprived, but I want you to know that you mean the world to me. I love you with my whole being and I truly hope you can see that.
Michael R Burch Jun 2020
To a Daughter More Precious than Gems
by Otomo no Sakanoue no Iratsume (c. 700-750)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Heaven's cold dew has fallen
and thus another season arrives.
Oh, my child living so far away,
do you pine for me as I do for you?

I have trusted my jewel to the gem-guard;
now there's nothing to do, my pillow,
but for the two of us to sleep together!

I cherished you, my darling,
as the Sea God his treasury's pearls.
But you are pledged to your husband
(such is the way of the world)
and torn from me like a blossom.

I left you for faraway Koshi;
since then your lovely eyebrows
curving like distant waves
ever linger in my eyes.

My heart is as unsteady as a rocking boat;
besieged by such longing I weaken with age
and come close to breaking.

If I could have prophesied such longing,
I would have stayed with you,
gazing on you constantly
as into a shining mirror.

I gaze out over the fields of Tadaka
seeing the cranes that cry there incessantly:
such is my longing for you.

Oh my child,
who loved me so helplessly
like bird hovering over shallow river rapids!

Dear child, my daughter, who stood
sadly pensive by the gate,
even though I was leaving for a friendly estate,
I think of you day and night
and my body has become thin,
my sleeves tear-stained with weeping.

If I must long for you so wretchedly,
how can I remain these many months
here at this dismal old farm?

Because you ache for me so intently,
your sad thoughts all confused
like the disheveled tangles of your morning hair,
I see you, dear child, in my dreams.

Otomo no Sakanoue no Iratsume (c. 700-750) was an important ancient Japanese poet. She had 79 poems in Manyoshu ("Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves"), the first major anthology of classical Japanese poetry, mostly waka. The compiler of the anthology was Otomo no Yakamochi (c. 718-785). Otomo no Sakanoue no Iratsume was his aunt, tutor and poetic mentor. In the first stanza, Lady Otomo has left her children in Nara, possibly to visit her brother. In the second stanza, it is believed that the jewel is Lady Otomo's daughter and that she has been trusted to the care of her husband. As for the closing stanza, according to the notes of the Manyoshu, it was popularly believed that a person would appear in the dreams of the one for whom he/she yearned. Keywords/Tags: Otomo, Sakanoue, Iratsume, Japanese, translation, mother, daughter, precious, gems, gem, jewels, jewel, pearls, pearl, Koshi, Tadaka
fm May 2020
dear mother, this is my letter to you.

i would like to start this letter off by saying that i didn’t know who to address it to.
“mother” is a term that i hold dearly,
a term many use simply and with abandon.
thoughtlessly throwing the term around,
bestowing the title upon their friends’ mothers,
like they’re their second family.

for years the term has encumbered me,
chained me to a wall where the shackles have rusted into my wrists.
my arms have gone limp from pulling at them from either trying to get away or trying to get back to you.

my mother.

but lately,
i’ve found that mother is a term of endearment.
a complete bond of trust and love that i’m suppose to feel but haven’t for years.
and lately,

mother,

it’s because you haven’t been a mother.
and maybe...
maybe that sounds dramatic and cold and cruel and just downright unfair.

because you gave birth to me right?

because your idea of love is different but it’s still love, faith and ******* you can’t do this to your sisters do you know what my mother did to me you can take it
but i can’t mother.

mom.

i can’t take it mom.
you’ve taken so much from me.

you’ve stolen my health.

my ability to trust.

my ability to love.

you’ve stolen the compassion from my bones and you’ve robbed me of my childhood and i never got to recklessly throw myself into something that doesn’t matter because it doesn’t matter and i never got to live,

mama

i never got to live.

you’ve already given me guilt,
guilt that i already had.
guilt upon guilt upon guilt upon guilt

and you never stopped to think that this hurts me too?

not even once?

you think i slide through life, laughing because i have another mother who was better than you?
the funny thing is,

mama

is that she is better than you.

and it hurts me even more that she’s better than you.

because you gave birth to me.

you gave me life.

the breath in my lungs.

the heart in my chest and the brain in my head.

yet she’s the one that made it beat and she’s the one that gave me thought and she’s the one that breathes for me when i can’t.
because janda,

janda,

you should’ve done that for me.

not her.

you should’ve done that.

but you didn’t.

so i’m letting you go,
because you didn’t fight to stay.
you didn’t fight to change.
because i’m just like everyone else.

because how can you be my mother when you never treated me like your daughter.

i love you.
and i’ll always love you,
but i can’t love you like this.
not anymore.

sincerely, faith marino.
these are the last words i’ll ever say to my mother, even though she’ll never hear them.
Moomin May 2020
If each of us could share a little piece of your pain
The way we share your love
We would
If we could endure for you
To give you gentle rest
We would
Yet no darkness can overwhelm your light
No amount of pain or tears can change you
You have taken what this dying world deals out
And you keep your integrity
I have seen forever
And touched the newest day of hope
And I want with all my heart
To share it with you
I wish you sunlight on your golden hair
And new warm winds on your gentle face
I wish you laughter in your baited breath
And sweet hope in your heart
For this cage won't hold you for long
And you will not always hurt
Yet you will always be loved
And you will always be
Good
For my beloved daughter - Rachel, who endures a lifelong illness
Lexi May 2020
DAD
Father/Daughter
Half/Quarter
Split them apart
Break them apart
Stamp on them hard
Until they shatter
Beat them hard
And He can never hurt me again
Oh Father stomp on me again so i am no more
Orakhal May 2020
I Remember
When you came to tuck me in at night
The scent of fresh sheets puffing air at my face
And tugging my toes
As you pulled them to my chin

Your fingers poking my body
tickling as you packed tight
Your beloved boy
Warm in his cocoon

Your lean
As you placed your prayerful loving kiss
On my forehead
Leaving its heart to guard my sleep

I love you really
I just forgot how to
Now I remember

I'm home so don’t worry or miss me
Know  this love is real
For you and I

A mother and son
The hardest places to go are the places you heal most
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