Here

The past is full of ghosts. I see them hiding behind her. She tells me they are there when I have chosen to ignore her presence.

The future is full of worry. I see the chaos around her. She tells me it is there when I have chosen to ignore her presence.

When I ignore her presence, there are holes in time. Trying to hold on to the clock’s hands, I am pushing them backward or forward. They let me go.

I fall into the present, where she is, where I am now. She holds my hand, and we walk together. She points to all that I have missed, including my own presence.

I run my fingers through her soft curls, waves like and unlike my own.
My fingers touch the texture of now, and I love what I feel.

I feel her, I feel me, I feel alive again, and wonder why I ever chose to touch what was never there.

My Girl is not Mine.

I am dead to my parents though
I can still feel their disapproving eyes
burn a hole through my soul.

Tears and blood leak through-
fluid from a madwoman
rank in her fear.

I cry for my lover
to be them, be the one
to rock my inner child

in a cradle of love
embrace of approval
circle of healing.

My words are cups
collecting pain
they cannot feel.

My eyes are storms
raining the story
of generations.

My heart is a river
flowing to my girl
her ocean of needs.

I ask her to keep this
keep us together
despite the odds.

My girl is not mine.

Defending the Line

I blame her for leaving, for the
surrogate mother Insecurity she left behind.

I’d rather be an orphan.

Where was the seed planted
to grow, to reach the sky
before the birth of my own child?

This hole, this tunnel
into the past and future
is deep.

I’m falling from her
into my baby girl
without a lifeline
with the knowledge

that I must weave the threads of self-esteem
for us all
from my own heart
with my own blood

to hold us here
to heal the line
that was once
br-
....ok-
.........en

Sometimes

Sometimes my song lifts her from suffering.

Sometimes my arms embrace her in a circle of healing.

Sometimes I watch the tears, her burning, and the reflection of a helpless mother in her eyes.

Armed with Tylenol and Love, I blaze with her, till the fever breaks, till I see a smile, till I know that together

we are well again.