Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jana B Jan 2021
My (ex) mother in law says
She loves me,
she won’t say any more but
worries I’ll miss her boy
one day in the future.
I was his pride and joy.

My mother says
maybe the women of the past
tried harder.
Is there anything to rescue,
women must try harder than men.

I haven’t worried about missing him;
until now.
The relief has felt so liberating.
Relief from that pressure
to carry it all, do it all,
with a smile, without love.
A smile, a gesture, care my way
would have been fuel for a year,
but the silence felt suffocating.

I’d rather love myself
than smile and pretend that I’m loved
by the husband in my bed.
For our kids, for me, I’m better alone.

Now, though,
that worm in my ear.
Will I regret this more next year?
More than the grief of this family broken?

I cannot see that I will.
Joy is breaking through;
but —
What do I do with this worm?
My mothers. Make me worry about my choices; but oh my goodness I’m finally making progress and I feel so much lighter and able to heal.
irinia Jan 2021
The mourning is
about it never being
the way I needed
it to be.

My life itself a
disturbance of mourning

Stands in my life. Before me. The
dead girl under the bed
her skin transparent as mine

disappears. I come out
and there is no mother. Sometimes
she appears and there is no telling what
attracts her warmth. Approaches and departs.
Becomes desire,
the loot of her mourning.

Empty womb pillow. I am not
enrapt. Its’ tufts flap my fringe.
Behind me, at my sides
stands mourning.

I have only to be busy with your burial.
Sharpening flint to a pillar
pile to a mound
and turn from it.

It is gone
forever.
And I am.

By Noa Vardi, M. D.
Jana B Jan 2021
This crazy, changing life.
It’s been down, sideways, up.
Who knows about tomorrow.
These ups - will they stay?
I feel they can;
they want to.
They depend on me
feeding my soul
being true to myself,
my children, my heart.
Getting to know myself again
And I feel so much better
than before.
When I first met you,
I had yet to face you..

Memories dug deep,
Presented as a heap..

Resemblance of me,
Your semblance deceived..

Ungrateful eyes,
And a fateful life..

Stories untold,
And memories unfold..

A gaze and a stare,
Within the rage and despair..

Two strangers meet,
And sane they leave..

To horizons unseen,
And boundaries within..
You can communicate via eyes.
Amy Ross Jan 2021
it's been too long,
since I've seen you
and I wonder
do you still find my hair?
on  your sheets, pillow, sweaters, and cushions
or have they all been picked up
and let drift into the waste bin
when did you stop finding them
when did I need to come replace them
when did it start being too long
since I'd seen you
little piece for people who can't see their dear ones in quarantine. Whatever dear ones means to you
Jana B Jan 2021
Casting for the direction,
driving forward and
worrying about additional penalties
that you’ll make them pay.
Jana B Dec 2020
You’re holding me ransom
From within your own cell
Holding my life ransom
because you’re not able.
Please please please
give me something to work on.
Are you out or are you in.
Still trapped by this instability,
even when I’m away from you.
Do I plan without, around you
Or
Do I plan for you to be within
The fabric of this new world.
I know he’s struggling, it’s just, he has been for so many years... and when do others start to matter too? All ok. Thanks for letting me process..
Him Dec 2020
Stone cold... these are the affection of my bed, nestled beside the fireplace, upon stone cold I lay my head; your warmth it no longer knows.

The longevity of nights have passed; now cruel and aching memories are your laughs; now, before my hearts retrieves its mask, a final kiss to you, my past.
A cold bed is perhaps the most subtle and sickeningly human reminder, that someone is no longer with you... and in subservience to love, there is nothing that you can do.
Next page