deepundergroundpoetry.com
Mother-Wound
I.
I have been blessed
with time
but find it difficult
to believe
I have been alive
double-over the years
my mother lived
We were not close
before she gave up the ghost
and having matured
through deep introspection
I came to know the whys
of the mother-wound
She was only 14
when she married
my father, who was 16—
normal for that period of time
Their love story was great
and lasted 20 years
ending the year
my father retired
their dreams sinking
six feet under
I didn't talk or think
about my mother much
with the exception
of harboring regret
that I wasn't older
or at least outgrown
my rebelliousness
Nor that I possessed
the knowledge
of shadow work
while she still breathed
When I would see friends
with their mothers
retired with grace and age
I felt pained—
my mother-wound triggered
and wondered
if given a chance
she and I
would've been friends
II.
I dreamt of my father
immediately
after he left this earth
He was reading a paper
and eating an apple
like he always did
He turned the paper around
and grinned at me
like he always did
and pointed to a headline
that said,
“I leave all my choices
up to God”
It’s the first time
I had seen his face
at peace
since my mother’s illness
But I never dreamt
of my mother
until recently—
45 years after her death
We were sitting on my sofa
she was looking around
taking everything in
like it was the first time
she had visited me
It was early spring
and my door was open
while we talked
about everything
She seemed confused
when I asked
how she was here
being she had died
decades ago
She answered,
"But I'm not gone
“I'm here with you"
We burst out laughing
long and loud and hard
over how silly the idea
of separation had become
Just like we were the oldest
and dearest of friends
catching up
after so much time
III.
I woke, comforted
knowing my mother-wound
had finally closed
IV.
I saw a friend today
her mother on her arm
I felt no pain
only joy for them both
I have been blessed
with time
but find it difficult
to believe
I have been alive
double-over the years
my mother lived
We were not close
before she gave up the ghost
and having matured
through deep introspection
I came to know the whys
of the mother-wound
She was only 14
when she married
my father, who was 16—
normal for that period of time
Their love story was great
and lasted 20 years
ending the year
my father retired
their dreams sinking
six feet under
I didn't talk or think
about my mother much
with the exception
of harboring regret
that I wasn't older
or at least outgrown
my rebelliousness
Nor that I possessed
the knowledge
of shadow work
while she still breathed
When I would see friends
with their mothers
retired with grace and age
I felt pained—
my mother-wound triggered
and wondered
if given a chance
she and I
would've been friends
II.
I dreamt of my father
immediately
after he left this earth
He was reading a paper
and eating an apple
like he always did
He turned the paper around
and grinned at me
like he always did
and pointed to a headline
that said,
“I leave all my choices
up to God”
It’s the first time
I had seen his face
at peace
since my mother’s illness
But I never dreamt
of my mother
until recently—
45 years after her death
We were sitting on my sofa
she was looking around
taking everything in
like it was the first time
she had visited me
It was early spring
and my door was open
while we talked
about everything
She seemed confused
when I asked
how she was here
being she had died
decades ago
She answered,
"But I'm not gone
“I'm here with you"
We burst out laughing
long and loud and hard
over how silly the idea
of separation had become
Just like we were the oldest
and dearest of friends
catching up
after so much time
III.
I woke, comforted
knowing my mother-wound
had finally closed
IV.
I saw a friend today
her mother on her arm
I felt no pain
only joy for them both
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