death of an attachment (new material)

  

giving all of my being was not the difficult part, that came

when you decided to construct a wall around your heart,

allowing no light or love to flow through.

 

 

becoming tired, recognizing that I have given my soul to you

 

received only wounds, frustration, failure, resentment, rage.

 

 

in my mind’s eye I see myself again, an inexpert mother yet so raw,

 

breasts throbbing with milk, it disgusts you each and every time.

 

 

my heart is sore from the worship and dedication, you see me blasphemous

 

call me to shame, waiting and wanting for more.

 

 

this is not much to do with the child destined to die, rather

the hanging on to invented joy, projected to all and sundry

upon the walls between us while I begged for more babies

 

 

and crept myself on the couch or in this single bed upstairs at night for

 

                              three years, tending the brood and nursing the sick

 

with injections and cocktails of medications, carrying the angel’s vessel beyond my strength to and fro.

 

you will care for the ones left, quite well but

never stop to reconsider with sincerity

what we had once preferred to believe as fate.

 

tiring myself to sleep with frantic pursuits and succumbing

to your lust when it hits you at the end of one month

or two, desecrated and open wide within like all the

 

fixtures falling off, broken cabinets, piles of your collected garbage

gathering selfish dust under the uncompleted floor

that I have no time to regret or disregard
(I haven't had time to finish) and

                              I’ll never miss you for a minute.

 

 

despite my forlorn departure from myself to make you whole

chasing behind your careless endeavor to live a lie

 you misrepresent how much better we can become in time, with labor

I have already given, over and over and over,

in avoidance of screaming truth in light of disaster

 

you say, good luck being an unmarried mother, alone

and I feel so much happier here, without your body in my bed.

 

Lest you overlook all that I have given you, it is too late for your fleeting commemorations.

 

 

 

 

 

shadowing her death  (For Kimberly)

 

 

 

she sits with three children in her arms, unearthing an seraph to the world. pain

 

relative to sorrow, frustration blooming into dignity with wings of grace and

 

enough courage to shout it to the world with blatant cries that it shouldn't happen

 

again, watching as your friend takes the path you are familiar with, as if it were

 

your own. and somehow sisters and brothers come along just opening their hearts

 

to what we have not chosen to encounter, encountering the lasting joy

 

in helping someone live the way they should live, whether or not they will die

 

tomorrow and with sentiment I reach to you, my friend and hope that together

 

with all the others, that one day we won't have to see this happen, again. the

 

entire universe in one person, trying to make its light just before it changes

 

direction helplessly we watch one star to another in the universe, waiting to catch

 

the fallen few with wishes for what makes a moment perfect. silent falling stars

 

exiting with joy, freedom and the anticipation that more falling stars won't keep falling

 

into the stardust before their time as we are mothers and fathers, we care for those

 

who are not our own as our own and cry the tears for those who are left with none to cry