Wipe the crust from my eyes
and think of yours
hoping you will be better today
praying that this is just the beginning of a
and you will come out all the
more lovely than ever
able to see how all the elements come into place
to do the simple things we do everyday
to come to me with your jacket and say, “let’s go out”
or finally pick up a pencil and “draw something”
and I will tell you how to do it
and we will do it
I have complained in the past
many, many times
about how you were never there
when I needed you.
This morning I
recalled very distant memories
looking out of my own eyes
how is it that we remember this
and not that
whatever that may be
and as I look out of those four year old eyes
parallel to the kitchen counter
raising up my two skinny arms
to reach the cup of water
it seems as though I am looking out of
the same exact ones
as if it’s happening
or even yesterday.
I remember drawing on the walls
while my mother took a shower
I remember even thinking then
how bad and mean it was to do
and yet I still did it anyway
walking back and forth along the long
I used different colors to make dashes
like Emily Dickinson
over and over again…
and I wondered today
how could I have had those thoughts
they seemed so mature
and to say that I did not know what I was doing
is not true
and I remember my mother yelling,
“we just painted these walls!”
and did I do it for attention, I wonder?
And so, today,
as I was walking home with Victoria
I saw myself again
so many years from now
watching her tell me I was there too much
that I was around too often
and to leave her alone
making up for my mother’s absence
I pushed my own child away–
silly thoughts, I think
and brush them
You’re beginning to understand.
You have eyes for seeing and
Hands for touching
And a bunch of vocal cords for
Screaming your little head off when you don’t get what you want.
I see the clear, drippy boogers
Dripping from your nose
I wipe, wipe, wipe….
What did the book say again about getting you to calm
I try it all.
I think it’s working…
And then a soft lullaby
And some little o crackers
Munch munch munch
Then off to sleep.
I love you so much….
This morning I went to dunkin donuts.
Well, actually, I went to the pharmacy
because it is a fedex drop off site.
and while I was at the wrong address
I fancied going to a “new” dunkin donuts
one that I had never been to before.
I marveled at all the ice cream flavors
and containers of other delicious delights.
V and I waited on line for my
small latte with milk, one sugar.
I overheard the old man say,
“He’s not a native new yorker…”
reminiscing on my own
reminiscent of one-liners
I tend to say
embarrassed at the thought
of being too judgmental
too closed off
to let anything in.
V and I…
she munching on her apple
me sipping on my drink.
and the next thing
(I don’t like to write about
the only reason I write
is to purge)
I eventually left with such a surge
listening to the locals
berate, and hate, and judge
if my tall, skinny body
led them to have this narrow minded conversation
pummeling me back to my self delusional, self conscious
wrapped up memories
drowning in my head
sneers and jeers
enveloping my Monday morning
with the little one
am I always running away from myself?
running away from my past?
How long does it take to learn self-accceptance?
How long does the self-hatred last?
All I know is that at this juncture in my life
I will raise my daughter to be headstrong, and loving, and kind…
to let the caterpillars to continue to bloom
to let the meek and worrisome shine–
she will raise up the downtrodden
give the outsiders some time
to love themselves too,
and if she does not
that’s also fine–
can I fix my own demons in the child that’s mine?
I don’t really know, but at least I can try–
I feel bad.
She’s having a day.
And while I am trying to disconnect
I have forgotten to watch her tiny body
Her little fingers
have roamed where they should have not
pulling the pink plastic lotus lamps away
from the Buddha
Lost in internet, lazy, runaway land
I was snatched out of it by her
I tell myself
she’s having a day
3X she’s touched, fell, scraped
1/2 and inch cuts
her mouth opens
A silent O
I know the tears
will come soon
and like Thunder
the wait time
between the first shooting pain and the cry
tells me the severity of her
unable to differentiate
between what’s just a little and
so my belly wets with sweat
as we walk
and well known lullaby
and in no time at all
you are almost fast asleep
in almost no time at all
you were always mine