She Raises Me

A prose poem that I wrote for class:

Flirting with thirty from down the hall, barely grasping the scheme of it all, I pull my breaker tighter though the weather is nicer as she tugs on the strap of my baggage, slowing my pace. In a line, with no front and no end but I’m next, in the midst of a contest with no rest… I’ll sprint ’till my shins split and she knows this, believes this even as the tears streak. I’m crushed and ground, salt of the earth, weak. And she still sees the beauty in the beat and swollen me. Is certain that this hurt is only temporary… she tempers my tantrums on the contrary. One of the most beloved set loose from a luminous galaxy to find… me and to wind… me while the rest of this test worries into my vitality. I’m taller. But she’s bigger. I now read well. But she is the cover, my daughter, six and none the wiser that she’s wiser, a better mother to the child in me.

– B. Brown

(art courtesy of Pinterest)

Childhood Treasure

it wasn’t a doll,
though I had plenty,
or the cars or blocks
lost in my memories

I had teddy bears
from wall to wall
even footballs
and basket balls

she wanted me
to have it all
all she never did
but mostly what I miss

are the hardcovers
and paperbacks
she’d read aloud
with me in her lap

– B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)

Forgive Your Mother

she never had anything good to say about her mother
until she needed help

I know a man who still resents his mother for
abandoning him when he was young

there was another who said she never wanted
to see her mother again

a pair like to punish their mothers by
withholding their children

and there are so many more who cannot see
how important their roles are

even if they did a shitty job at the whole protection
and education thing

even if they did more harm than good, even if they
weren’t there at all

they are still pillars, fillers, millers, eaters, feelers
and oxygen breathers

they are still human, living in the same paradoxical
world the rest of us do

struggling to reach enlightenment just as all of us
were born to do

coping with the evils, pressures and oppressions
that not every one sees

trying to put a picture together with pieces
none of us will ever see

because we are in our own realities, filling,
eating and breathing

and it’s far too easy to shift blame on an
proceeding authority

instead of letting go history
to heal presently

so we can treasure what’s
left with another

peace is rare, not to be plucked
from others

so why grudge, when we can
restore and love our mothers?

– B. Brown

I will never understand what it’s like to be abused, abandoned or ridiculed by my own mother. I can’t fathom it but I know others live it on a daily basis. Chaos, nightmare, hell… I know these words just aren’t heavy enough for those kinds of experiences so then, who am I to tell you to forgive the woman that has become the bane of your existence?

Nothing but freedom awaits when you forgive and unload that heavy burden. You don’t necessarily have to forgive them for their sake (no one is saying you have to be besties) but it’s necessary that you forgive for your own sake. The metaphysical connections we have with our mothers are so integrated that hating them eventually turns into hate for ourselves. The knots that churn in your tummy every time you think about how wrong they’ve done you only fester and expand like black holes, gaining weight by swallowing everything else about your Being. Then, what are you left with? Two black holes fighting for supremacy. Where does this lead? No where but to more heartache.

Choosing to forgive opens up more possibilities in the future. After all, nothing in this universe stays stagnant so why should your heart? Life is too short, our consciousness all too rare and our capabilities are unique only to us as beautiful, complicated, powerful humans. So if you can, with the power, autonomy and strength that the universe has invested in you, try to forgive your mother. Neither one of you deserve to remain slaves to passed mistakes.

(image by David Sketchbook)