acting it out

the art of learning to live

Archive for the tag “love”

For My Mother

Every time I look in the mirror, I will think of you. I will see the nose I once hated & I will smile because it is your nose.
Every time I dance, I will think of you. I will hear you singing along & I will laugh because you never could carry a tune.
Every time I’m sick, I will think of you. I will feel your hand on my head & I will feel better because I know chicken soup really is good for the body & soul.
Every time I cook, I will think of you. I will smell the memories of meals past & I will toast to you because you finally did master Julia Child’s coq au vin.
Every time I feel discouraged, I will think of you. I will remember your words & I will carry on because I know I have your strength inside of me.
Every time I am happy, I will think of you. I will live my life to the fullest & follow my dreams because you taught me how to embrace myself & be my own person.
Every time I think of you, I will love you even more.
I will be thankful because you gave me life, but you also gave me so much more.

I love you for forever.

I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart

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Stuck

I’m between the ghouls and the monster

Fear.
It makes you stick,
stick in one place.
It makes you
Stuck.

& that’s what I am

Stuck
By
Fear

I’m afraid to mourn a mother who is not yet (physically) gone.

I’m afraid to live
I’m afraid to love
I’m afraid to learn from my mistakes
because I feel I have already made enough.

That’s another word I identify with my current state,
enough.

However, I do not use it as an adjective to describe myself,
no, that would be too kind.
& kindness can not be afford to those who need
tough love?

enough
I’ve had it.

I’ve had enough pain.
I’ve had enough anger.
I’ve had enough doubt.

I’ve cried enough tears.
Haven’t I?

I imagine there’s a collection of all the salt water I release
at night in my bed,
or in my shower,
or in my car, in broad daylight, at a stop sign, while an old Chinese lady stares at me.

There’s just jars & jars of it, sitting on a shelf somewhere.
They are labeled with my name & someone is sorting through them,
with the tiniest pasture pipette,
counting out each droplet,
seeing if it has reached the magic number,
seeing if it’s
enough.

But it isn’t.

So, the universe rears back its fist to have another go.

But I have had enough.

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