Mommah

Mommah

Merry christmas, mommah. I don’t know How I’ve come this far Without you. Some might say It’s a tribute To my strength But I’m not so sure. More than anything, I think It’s a tribute to yours. I have an unwillingness To admit defeat Because of you. Because of What you taught me. Taught us. I’m willing to put aside My fear of failure For the possibility Of success. We all thought You had so much longer, So much more time On this earth. We were wrong. I am angry, I am still so angry, Because of what the world lost When you left it. I remember saying goodbye To you, When I walked in your bedroom, And saw your small face, Your frail body, Under that white sheet. I remember the moment That the anticipation ended And I was forced to accept That you were gone. I...

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Ink

Ink

Friendship, It says. It means more to me Than that. As the needle Tore through my skin I was reminded Of how far removed I am From the razor blades That once did the same. My body is the map of my life. The scars are a part of me, An outward symbol Of an inner pain. The stretch marks Are the proof Of my healing, My bodily acceptance, The embrace Of womanly curves Over wantonness And starvation. The stains On my fingers Are from my mind- My words leaving marks On the page And my hands. My hair Is an ode to my mother, The long waves Reminiscent of hers. The ink in my skin Is a badge Of a new phase And an old love. And my body Is my art, And my canvas, And my brush. [the arrows are the Native American symbol for friendship, a tribute to our Cherokee...

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Distance

Distance

I hate distance. Both the word And What it represents. I hate time And miles And measuring The separation Of loved ones Or long drives To old stomping grounds Turned unfamiliar. I hate how long it’s been Since I’ve seen her smile Or held her hand. That the distance Between her and me Is six feet underground And five years. I hate the miles Across the large expanse Of ocean And the dollar bills Or pound notes Needed To bridge the gap. The time Between messages And kisses- It’s been months Since we said goodbye And he got on that plane And flew away from me. And does distance Slowly kill us? The time since birth And dead parents And lonely hearts Knew love. And it’s the word- I’ve used it so much I’m sick of it. How do you do it They ask. And I don’t know. It’s...

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