Inside I Feel

 

mama and rosa 1980 copy

This morning I lay in bed
under the weight of my feathers
eyes closed
enjoying the quiet
the warmth
then I felt the strangest thing
I was my mother
I could feel being her
strange, not a frightening feeling
I was her but a small me was inside her
like one mitt inside the other
not a child in her mother
two women in one
I could feel her thoughts
I could sense her mind
my hands are like mama’s
my face is like mama’s
strange yet wonderful feeling

My fingernails are thin
mama would trim and file hers down
I chose to bite
so many attitudes
I have adopted
my grandchildren not calling
creates terrible feelings
I feel vindictive
harbouring such thoughts and filing them
plotting retaliation
I detested this characteristic of my mother
yet here I am sitting with my shoulders rounding
my face transmuting into someone I don’t know
yet I act as she did
I also know that the second the phone rings
we both cast away every sad thought
we become joyous and loving
we give many presents
as a penance for even thinking such terrible thoughts
I know how greatly saddened she was
I feel such sadness
we are the same mitt
I look in the mirror and see her face
we wear our heart on our sleeve
that is why it gets hit and bumped and bruised
perhaps I should put it back into my chest
where it will be protected

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Familiar Sadness

 

 

her sadness 

                                                                                           was
so intense
                                                                                        that it

left an imprint
                                                                                       upon
on my flesh
                                                                                      my burning chest
when we held

my sister’s sadness
                                                                                       forever changed
etches deep in my flesh
                                                                                        mutated
I am consumed
my body
my mind
every memory
                                                                                     surfacing
feels woken
defrosted
                                                                                     wet and desolate
jolted from a placid state

a bandage ripping off a scab
exposing raw flesh

opening the dam
                                                                                     flooded
the heart’s intuition begins to flow
do i possess the strength
or am i just an
                                                                                   overwhelmed
sorrow addict looking
for her next fix
am i drawn to a familiar sorrow
ever encompassing sadness
                                                                                  is there such a thing
is there such a thing?

 

Upon reading. Editing and adding words and lines, I felt that two things were happening. I was recreating my poem by adding these words and lines. By the process of separating them I realized that a second poem was being created 🙂 thus I left the added lines to the right. The poem can now be read in three ways.