My Beautiful Mother on her wedding day to her ex-husband and my ex-father. The most beautiful photograph I've ever seen. | from my revised poem "Remains & Ruins'; • My mother was filled with sorrows and grenades and would often explode.
I grew trapped in its flames, smothered in the fumes from trying to reduce her hurt.
My father was the soil who planted his seed and left it to grow in the dirt.
My sister carrying his loss made her soul lost, and I had to find her buried clutched to his skeletons.
From rising without being nurtured I sank in worthless pits.
I suppress his void, though it still attacks me like bullets surging from weapons.
Nevertheless, we dug ourselves out his mud and were baptized by our mother’s presence.
Shielded us shorn of shelter in her arms, slit her hands so she won’t learn how to embrace us both.
Still, with all the burdens she couldn’t unload, she became a warrior who fought battles all alone... Survived with her two wounded soldiers, while he ran off holding his pride like he should’ve held his spawns.
I was left with the tainted medal of his dishonor and in time I learned…
I am a fighter like my mother and a sprinter like my father.
And I’ve been burned from their alliance… (See middle post for full poem)