I want to be surrounded by
tall and silent trees
and covered by a star filled sky
just you, me and God above
Here in the sticky heat of the morning
it is the hour of prayer
I wear fresh clothes
I wash my face of my thoughts
I listen to
the quiet whirring of the fans
the birds of the city are awake
the day's first train roars past
I think of you, and of the people I've known
of the lakes I've seen and the oceans
of the star speckled skies of my past
and the skies I'm sure are yet to come
Dear daughter,
I wrote this for you while you were sleeping, dreaming
I love you, when I pick you up and you stop crying,
and your heads rests once again lolling, eyes closed,
and I am poised for your cry,
but it doesn't come, not yet at least, and wow, the peace.
The kindness in my heart, that wasn't there while you were awake
it grows and I think, I want to do this for you,
I want to write for you.
When you are awake and I try to type,
with your noises and your hands whacking away at me,
I feel so angry, so resentful, and not a bit loving,
quite the opposite in fact, and now, how desperate you were
for a moment, afraid of the crow cawing close, though far away from our window,
you came to me arms raised and eyes closed and I felt
infinitely protective, I felt okay,
I didn't at all hesitate.
Ah but let me think, surely, there must be some things about you
that I like. For example, when you pretend play, when you play by yourself,
when you give your teddy bears one domino each, making sure once,
and then twice, that they all have one, when you roll around on your back,
with your belly full, doing little things, like trying to touch the plate with your feet,
knowing it makes me angry, how you smile when you do it,
and you see that I see, and I smile when I see your smile because
this irritation, floating so close to the surface, is not a reward for your misbehavior.
And here I thought I was a bad mom, turns out
you're a little bit bad yourself.
At night then, look me in my eyes
hold my face between your two hands
and tell me you love me, like you mean it
like its the only true truth.
I want to tell you my little secrets
the stories of my youth
and my hopes for the future.
I want to share with you the tiny things
before they fizzle out in the glare
of sounds.
Come to me quietly
gently, like the night
sudden dusk falling like snow
cool night air
and the windows of light
in the dark
Come to me then when
we are no longer hungry, nor thirsty
when we've done all our chores
and the toys are all played with
lying around the house
the books are left open
on the pages we like
Come then and lie down
with your head here and your eyes closed
soft curls nestle in my neck
I will hold you until
you fall asleep, I will hold you
until we both fall asleep.
Can you hear me
through the noise
can you see me
through the smog
can you feel me
through the mundane blank walls
the rooms as empty as empty houses
the lines sharp and ugly
cobwebbed
the insects that we've gotten used to
the heat that seeps into skin
and sweats and sweats
I am sticky and icky with sweat
the wind then, in the afternoon, is welcome
a welcome relief
it blows us away for a while
we are in heaven
the ocean outside our window
boats bobbing on the water
and the breeze and the quiet
no people here in heaven
just my daughter and I
each on our own device
left to our own devices
time stops at 5pm
when the wind blows in from the door
the curtain sways in the breeze
the cool air dries our sweat as it breaks
and I am lost in stories that are not my own
In my own story, there is nothing happening
isn't that a shame, it feels like it
as if at each moment I cannot bear to sit still
I cannot tolerate the existence of stillness
or comfort or time-pass, whatever you call it
and when my husband finally comes home in the evening
isn't it strange, the energy he brings
it is like I re-enter this world then,
as Wife.
I listen and I complain
I make excuses and I boast of what I did
I ask to be loved
But his eyes are all for our daughter
who has been in this world all along after all
she never left the bugs and the sweat
she is overjoyed at her fathers face
squealing with delight
and they are a pair, I watch from the side
they are up to mischief all of their own
a pantomime I wouldn't tolerate even if I was a part of it
it's lovely. Take her, I say
take her. and when I am alone for a while in this house, I enter this world
neither wife nor mother
I clean up myself and the floors and the dishes and the bed
I do all this and I breathe deep breaths, wanting to finish the work
and not wanting the work to finish
I take deep breaths because I am about to cry
drowning in an insubstantial feeling
is it longing? I don't know. I cannot bear it
I cannot stand another moment
is no one there?
can no one hear me