Restoration

sometimes i fall
and hit the ground
of my existence
breaking
into pieces
i do not want
to reconstruct


sometimes i catch myself
and land unscathed
proud of
my prudence
in avoiding
destruction

ignorant
that the breaking
is the beginning
of repair

I have learned...

I have learned that the Universe showers you with a downpour of challenges, and the Waters of Life to change you into a person ever mindful of the present moment. She challenges my anxiety everyday. I can get washed away, or dance with her in our puddle of tears.

I have learned that she knows more than my husband and I think she does. We are supposed to be her pillar of love. Clashing egos and anger are grand sandcastles that break against the gentlest waves, while forgiveness and humility stand as the legs of a pier which beckons the child lost at sea home again.

I have learned that sacrifice is not a mother anchored to the house with a popular misconception of Motherhood. I can only teach her about buoyancy if I am able to float away on occasion, and bring back seashells of stories about floating in the worst storms.

I have learned that I have more to learn. What I know now recedes like the tides, and flows back to me when I try to remember again. Sometimes I stand at the shoreline and recognize the depth of each wave’s whispered wisdom as it sways my legs to awareness. Sometimes I stand stubbornly still, ignoring its message. Sometimes, I cup my hands and bring the water to my mouth to taste the salt of my existence, and then fold them in a silent prayer of thanks.

Transition

A rush of love soars like a firecracker, then breaks into spectral smiles across a winter sky.

A rush of dependence swells like a wave, then breaks into tears against the walls of a house.

Recently, I have been dabbing in dualities. The recipe for transition calls for a mixture of fear of the future, love, excitement, and frustration in the present, and a longing for days passed. I cannot taste it any other way.

Perspective

I wear the darkness
like a straightjacket
trapping fear
bleeding life

I wear the darkness
like a warm cloak
hugging fear
breathing life

until there is light
until I can see
what I’m wearing

Apology

who knew
tongues can cut
deeper than any torture weapon
ever invented

red river of blood
draining the heart of love

head pounding with words
laced with angry delusions
and reproachful hallucinations
poisoning the mind
with the insanity of
imagined suffering

the ensuing silence
hangs with the burden
of apology

will we open
morning blinds
accept the light
of forgiveness
or linger in shadows
cast by our clouds
of condemnation?

Postpartum Blue

“There is always a choice to swim in the shallow or deep end.”

In the days that followed her birth, I had mixed feelings. When I chose to swim in the shallow end, I was overwhelmed by fear and sadness. I was no longer sleeping 8-9 hours; free time meant the precious minutes in between her feeds, burps, and diaper changes; my husband would get to run errands, while I felt like I was stuck in prison, looking out at the changes in weather, looking in at the changes in me.

Now, as I sink deeper, I do not fight the urge to come up for air. Submerged with the tiny creature who looks up at me with wide-eyed wonder, I want her to see the girl she will become, the woman she will love, and the glow of life in my eyes that will shine brilliantly in her own spirit.

I have a feeling that she sees me: my fear and my love. I ask her which one will prevail. Maybe there is room for both.