I have a mother wound that will not heal
It hemorrhages loss and hope like a cracked pipe
A house haunted like the clean bones that I pull
One by one from the hole in my arm like
Blood from the veins I’ve tried to open
Like the jellyfish of a dream that empties
Me of bones and teeth and blood and anything
To say help me someone I die of starvation
For a little real something that feels like
Love might now slow the draining death
Of my mother’s need to be better than everyone
Include me, stinking, loud, sucking child of needs
©2008 Peggy Pendleton
4 comments:
Wow... Stinking child... Very moving poem.
Powerful imagery, Utah. One day I will tell you my own story - and how I've come to heal. Of course, I didn't begin to heal until after my mother's death, but there is hope.
You are simply amazing, Utah dear.
I feel as if I know of you through your poems, i know some of where you have been and you are so very right. Our history has brought us to who we are - where we are.
Coming from our dark places the art of weaving words into rhythms of their own is magical.
I am so glad you showed me the way here.
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