Hello Beautiful Heart,
I hope this letter finds you well! This past week has seen me on my second, and more powerful round, of antibiotics as it appears my sinusitis is antibiotic resistant.
I was so wiped out, I did no writing at all this week, not even to touch up the draft I had written for the next installment of Eyes Wide Open. That will have to wait another week.
I feel a little better tonight, enough to pick up a poem I had started a while ago. Finding a photo of my mother, holding me as an infant, inspired me to work with it some more.
My thoughts have been going to my mother lately. It makes sense, as there’s no way I can look at my father and his influence on my creative process, without looking at my mother. She is the one who introduced me to the power and magic of the creative process.
Before my father snatched up my singing to serve his ego, my mother had bought a piano with the money she saved cleaning houses. She taught me how to read music and play. Before she shared the piano with me, she embraced her own art, late into the night, painting her “goddesses” in water color.
I hope, in reading this poem, you will see a bit of what I saw when I discovered this picture of us. That even in some of our more painful memories, something beautiful can be, unexpectedly, found.
I. I wonder Did you ever look at me the way you looked into the camera? I wish I could remember II. I didn’t see you. How can we live in the same house and never bump into each other? III. On the bridge of our noses, he placed little glasses to see you through his eyes like you were something hard to bring into focus If only we knew how to smash those glasses we would have seen your beautiful unfiltered self Then maybe, you could have seen it too. IV. Glass cuts When our fingers bled, sometimes, you would blow on them gently, “Foo foo” you would breath-say and magically make the pain go away V. He laughed at your accent your broken speech your struggle to speak as if those things meant you had nothing worthwhile to say we laughed too VI. I had a right to know you. VII. I lost you when you lost your self I lost my self when I found you and took you in as the daughter and I became the mother He was fine with this. I was already his surrogate girlfriend. VIII. I’m okay, Mama. IX. I’m not okay. Where the fuck were you? X You taught me the spell in your book of shadows disguised as water colored canvases You showed me where the getaway car was when you sat me down at the piano It saved my life you saved my life we just couldn't save each other XI. I’m tired, I say I have two kids, a baby grows inside me Let me be your daughter not caregiver, errand runner, chore-doing dream-fulfilling vindicator Let me spend time with you Let me sit down Tell me your stories You get in bed You turn your back to me I bend down to kiss you You lift your chin, turn your face away, I catch a corner of your high cheekbone It cuts me I’ll see you tomorrow… And then you died Just like that “You’re kidding!” I say, the next morning to the nurse who tells me, "Massive stroke in her sleep". God, Mama, you could have just said no. XII. Sometimes, tears take 26 years to fall I don't know which hurts more that you died or that you died pissed at me XIII. You'd be mortified to know I'm writing this Not what you had in mind, I’m sure, when you said I should tell your story to the world XIV. It’s my story too. XV. Seeing you look into the camera holding me I tell myself the happiness on your face and in your eyes is because of me I think it's true but I think I look sad I can't stop looking at this picture If you were alive today, Mama, you would see I still want to love you
Question: Do you have a snapshot memory that carries layers of story behind it? Or a poem that reflects a moment in your life? Ambivalence is a complicated thing. So many ways to feel it and explore it. This or anything else you'd like to say. I'm willing to hold the space. ❤️
I think I’m going to use each stanza as a prompt to freewrite the stories behind it. And maybe go through some more pictures. If you’d like to participate in co-creating and maybe sharing some work together, let me know. It might be fun to try this kind of structure in poetry as freewriting-prompt together, too. Just tossing out some ideas.
From my heart to yours,
Demian Elaine’ Yumei~Silent No More
Question: Do you have a snapshot memory that carries layers of story behind it? Or a poem that reflects a moment in your life? Ambivalence is a complicated thing. So many ways to feel it and explore it. This or anything else you'd like to say. I'm willing to hold the space. ❤️
I don't have a memory at hand, but, wow, your poem was magnificent. It was a privilege to read it just before going to sleep. So much emotion expressed so poignantly and well.
I hope others will read it, because it deserves to be read.