smother my mother in my love kisses to her armor, she can’t feel it she even resists, but I keep repeating the steps approach, appreciate, allow kiss her cheek and bow I don’t know how much longer I have with her but I cherish each moment, each pocket of sunshine I savor my queen, the empress The shining example of a goddess I thank god for her, for my family I am finally understanding
I waited on many mothers with their daughters today. my last table had a prada shopping bag with them. they stayed an hour after my shift ended. did they think I didn't have a mother waiting at home? ... of course, my mother wasnt at home. she, too, waited on many mothers with their daughters today. i wonder if she realizes, in another life, we would be at the table with a prada shopping bag too. give me a few years, mom. we'll get there.
Today is Mother's Day of 2022. But I can not spend it with you. You died over nine years ago. Love was what you once showed. Many people celebrate this day. But in 2013, you passed away. Mother's Day is what I tolerate. It's a day that I can't celebrate. I can't celebrate but I wish I could. You died and you're gone for good. You were a great mother and that's true. If I could, I would tell you that I love you.
DEDICATED TO AGNES GREENE-JOHNSON (1948-2013) WHO PASSED AWAY ON MARCH 6, 2013.
Mother, would you love me? Would you love me if you knew why I cringe at the thought of being you, A strong woman? I have the strong, but not quite woman enough Would you love me if you knew you’ve lost two daughters, not one? If you knew how hard I try to live up to a sister that never got to be They always told me how much you wanted a daughter You told me how hard your grandmother prayed. I wonder if she’d pray for me the same Or if she’s rolling in her grave.
Momma, would you love me if you knew me? Me, and not the stories I tell you of the boys that could’ve loved me if i had let them Or the thought of a woman I could be. Would you love me if I’d told you about her? How I fell in love while you were in the next room. How “I won’t get married” really means that I refuse to have a wedding you won’t come to. And the only option is a wedding you won’t enjoy. How “I won’t give birth” really means I won’t be a mother. All the things you had hoped for me are not for me. Would you still love me if I just let myself be?
I can’t find the courage to make you grieve for so many losses, to grieve for any more. I know the new me. Me. I may be hard to get to know or explain. I’m still learning. But mom, would you love me? Would you still let me hold your hand? Would you read me stories and give me hugs? Would you still love me? Or is this what you called growing up? Because mom, I may not be your daughter, but I still need my mom
You always have my heart in your heart Don’t be scared if we sometimes have to be apart I’m always with you in your eyes and your smile In your feet and your toes In your ears In your soul I’ve loved you even before I knew you When you were just forming inside I’ll love you forever ‘til I’m no longer I’ll love you beyond space and time You have my heart with you always You are never alone Smile when you think of me, my love I will always be your home
I open the window So I don’t suffocate But the air doesn’t reach my lungs As I try to count my breaths
Monday I came in to see you For the last time. The last time.
And I never said goodbye.
Wednesday I took a test. Back at school and then went home. I don’t remember anything Beside the PSAT and the moment you were gone from me. I remember it was 9.
Dad in the hall Bedroom door opens “I’m home” (the last time I believe in miracles as delusion and hope burn all sense of reason). Is she with you?
I remember how everything got worse from then. It doesn’t get better You get used to it. You get used to cold, Just the absence of heat. You get used to the holes when they become a part of you.
I don’t remember forgetting. Your face gets fuzzy. I conjure up your voice but I lost your laugh. I can’t hold on to everything that’s flying away from me In a thousand different directions And when someone asked me last week, I can’t remember your favorite food, It’s been viciously consumed by the hunger of time.
I remember the look on your dad’s face- This is what I remember most- The look as he stared at you With silent tears And the face of a man, A veteran of war, Who was never prepared for the devastation of life As he is told his daughter will die. She will die slowly. And he can’t save her, But he can watch As the life drains out of her.
I gasp for air uncontrollably Leaning my head out the window. As I am stuck remembering Memories block air from reaching my lungs. Stuck on repeat Spinning spinning spinning And it’s been two years.
As of today it's now been five years, but I thought I'd share this one from three years ago.