Children of Children
after a line by Aleathia Drehmer
She looked on while one
cracked the eggs and
measured flour, and one tucked
candles into buttercream to light,
and then they sang for me—
daughter, daughter, wife.
I felt full without a bite.
Was 40 like this for you,
all those decades before?
Your wife and your son (my father
who fathered two in turn),
gathered about a glowing cake.
1964. Your chickens would have
given the eggs, your cows the cream.
You a farmer who had
come home from war,
married, raised my father, tilled
land many miles from here.
You are buried, now,
many miles from here.
I think of you anyway, how you always
touched the ground: feet planted or
hands in earth, solid and knowing,
certain of what you grew.
This is me trying
I do,
I do think about you.
In parking lots
in grocery lines
in coffee shops
in dinning halls
in podium stands
in traffic jams.
During long exams
during long rides
during warm hugs
during cold stares
during painful sweat
during cheerful tears.
I still find you in the warmth of my bed,
in the spilling of the milk.
I haven't forgotten you,
I swore I never would, and
I mean to be a woman of word.
So dear little me,
I'm making this for you.
I'll make our dreams come true.
What is tomorrow? May I ever know
What is tomorrow? May I ever know
What is fine is fine day by day
I’ll wake, I’ll go get ready
Be ready, and head to work
I’ll work, work’s fine and all
But it’ll end, and that’ll be all
I’ll clock out, leave and get to the car
I’ll turn in on, turn my music on
And drive off reflecting and pondering
What is tomorrow? May I ever know
What is tomorrow? May I ever know
What is fine is fine day by day
When I arrive, I’ll undo my shoes
Change into different pants and lay loose
Legs land at the foot of my bed
Long past dinner; still hungry, I head
Downstairs to fridge for some bite to eat
Eat some food then it’s back up to see
My parents, older now, laying in bed
Sleeping, sleeping early than late
No chance for me to say goodnight
I head back to my room, whole house is quiet
It’s me now with my thoughts, and I wonder
What is tomorrow? May I ever know
What is tomorrow? May I ever know
What is fine stays fine day by day
But when it’s time to sleep, there is none
And when it’s time for peace, there is none
Every night can only go wrong
Every day can only go as long
As what we stay up for
And as I lay and think of all these things
I realize what’s been the trouble;
My grandfather, weak, two hours away
Laying the same position as I
But weaker, older, more reliant
For him there is only tomorrow, and still he wonders,
“What is tomorrow? May I ever know”
What is tomorrow? May I ever know
What is fine stays fine day by day
But pain. You’ll hear it and know it
But pain on the surface is pain
Pain buried is hardened and often constrained
And woken alive, an unpleasant burden
Especially when in need of sleep
When he’s in need of sleep
I cannot imagine being there
And when I go to visit I scare
He won’t remember what I’m doing there
And when I visit I scare
Someday myself I won’t remember
And these visits aren’t always in person
Instead, when I try to sleep
And when I try to sleep, I wonder
What is tomorrow? May I ever know
Heavy
Life is being sucked out of me as the days go by.
Memories of your existence replay over and over.
When the baby cries, I cry.
Starvation eats me from the pit of my intestines.
Your life, as well as three others, copied on my fifteen inch screen.
Portrait and horizontal.
Memories of their lives in 4k resolution.
I cry, when the baby cries.
What if one day it’s her reliving my good times.
Will it penetrate her heart as it does mine?
Four years in this chair, I never realized that I can adjust it.
The pain has become part of me.
The feeling of discomfort is part of me.
My back carries the pain of the ones who grieve.
My posture is no longer poise.
When the baby cries,
I cry.
The scent of her innocence keeps me alive.
A new frame to work on while she closes her sweet eyes.
I remember a time when I knew not of this trait.
Just like everyone else, waiting to see.
But now, I recreate the past.
I have the power to make it look happy or sad.
Music notes have the impact that one only experiences in the cinema.
I’m so drained.
I don’t even write anymore.
What was I doing before this?
I can’t even remember.
Stories left unfinished,
Frame left unedited.
Coworkers wondering how I can keep my headphones on for so long.
“just let her work” my boss says.
I cry.
Like a baby.
In this uncomfortable chair,
I'm heavy, and,
I cry.
Haute Couture
Nothing left to prove
To myself
Others who judge
Judge a past
In the past
Outdated beliefs and
Worn-out layers of ill-fitting clothing--obsolete uniform
Not defined by my past
But my future
The future's as much
A part of my life
As my past
But the one that's malleable
To discard what's done and bestow a new wardrobe--bespoke and personified
My present is busy
Crossing that line
Minute by minute
Sentiment by sentiment
When my present falls away
My future lands solidly in its place
Any my clothes finally fit--my colors, my path, myself
Roller coaster
Up and down
Your heart weighs pounds
Your head is making sounds
It's always loud
Close your eyes
Block out the lies
Run into the night
As if made of light
Up and down
Your head is a cloud
The voices are loud
The worries mound
Then there's no sound
Close your eyes
Try your best to be kind
As you fall apart from the inside
You find out that your heart has lied
Up and down
Don't you dare shout
Your mind fills with doubt
Ug, I really suck at poems but I tried. :) I dunno if it made any sense though.
My alarm rings at 6.30
No it's not for me to wake up.
I'm already awake and ready
It's to leave the house.
I make haste and step out
Closing the door behind me.
I take out the white ribbon from my gown pocket.
And tie it around the hairband of one braid.
And do the same for the other.
I plaster my polite smile.
Eyes wrinkling
with the corners of mouth moving.
I make it to the bus stop.
I take a quick glance
Wishing there were no boys of my age or older.
If I notice one I dread my awkward reaction
Sometimes a smile
Sometimes none.
They are thinking I'm arrogant.
Not that I'm at a loss on how to interact.
The crowded CTB stops at the halt
We don't get in.
The people inside are sandwiched to save up money.
A bus of a private company comes.
My heart drops a beat.
The daymare I want to erase comes in a rush.
Just like when I see a middle aged man
Short and fat and dark holding a shopping bag.
The bus comes near.
There are only a few standing.
I sigh silently in relief
And gets on.
But it's after I get off near the school that I relax.
I enter the school where
I'll be myself.
A mere student among a thousands
Who only wishes to be bold.
Unvisible
Only what the chose to see
What the want me to be
What the need
To fill their hearts
The piece that fits the part
Allowing them to be the star
Im just a card board cutout
Nothing more about
No voice to shout
I have nothing to say
Only the ones that fit their way
The rest fall away
I am nothing
But their something
All they can keep sucking
Consuming all
Never seen as a girl
Just something to fulfill their world
Im done
I want to be someone
I need to shine in the sun
Oh so bright
No longer hidden from their sight
Look at me
See
Allow me to be
Set me free