All parents break their children's bones, in one way or another, doing the best they knew.
to my parents
part 1
part 2
part 3
In the beginning two hands shaped me; One, a fearful absence, The other warm but gripped by sorrow and I, soft and pliable between them, A small animal alone in their wild. Our home was humble and dark, hidden in the shadow of mountains. I ate wild berries and goat turds - too young to tell the difference; I slept under stars, a rough canvas the only barrier between me and a feral moon. Then, rough walls; held together by stubbornness and desperation My Father, the sky, cold and distant. My Mother, a field; her grass so tender and sharp I would cut myself on her
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genesis
In the beginning two hands shaped me; One, a fearful absence, The other warm but gripped by sorrow and I, soft and pliable between them, A small animal alone in their wild. Our home was humble and dark, hidden in the shadow of mountains. I ate wild berries and goat turds - too young to tell the difference; I slept under stars, a rough canvas the only barrier between me and a feral moon. Then, rough walls; held together by stubbornness and desperation My Father, the sky, cold and distant. My Mother, a field; her grass so tender and sharp I would cut myself on her
genesis
There is a land inside me that is you unknown unplowed A homeland banished from too young to remember My Father who art in heaven why don't I know your name? My home and native land glorious and free You flew South with the birds and left me wandering this cold terrain without you. You are an absence I don't recognize until he holds her small body curled into a protective mountain I've never been to A safe place Then I hear it, the cry in my bones O Father, where art thou? And why have you forsaken me?
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O father
There is a land inside me that is you unknown unplowed A homeland banished from too young to remember My Father who art in heaven why don't I know your name? My home and native land glorious and free You flew South with the birds and left me wandering this cold terrain without you. You are an absence I don't recognize until he holds her small body curled into a protective mountain I've never been to A safe place Then I hear it, the cry in my bones O Father, where art thou? And why have you forsaken me?
O father
A field beat flat by old hard hands, my mother hid me in beneath the legs of long grass the best protection she could offer. No shelter to weather her storms I nestled into the ground on hot days "Make yourself small so you don't get burnt." When the clouds gathered and the rain began I would surface I drank her tears and tasted sorrow so deep it made my small bones ache, thirst unquenched. What grows on a diet of heat and tears? Rage, and sorrow. Sometimes I want to break something small if only to feel some control in the chaos sometimes the ache is so deep, I realize that I am that small thing breaking.
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The Field
A field beat flat by old hard hands, my mother hid me in beneath the legs of long grass the best protection she could offer. No shelter to weather her storms I nestled into the ground on hot days "Make yourself small so you don't get burnt." When the clouds gathered and the rain began I would surface I drank her tears and tasted sorrow so deep it made my small bones ache, thirst unquenched. What grows on a diet of heat and tears? Rage, and sorrow. Sometimes I want to break something small if only to feel some control in the chaos sometimes the ache is so deep, I realize that I am that small thing breaking.
the field
soft, soft tissue too soft too sensitive you'll have to harden up buck up forget your tender skin and grow scales be hard enough to take a beating be smart enough to avoid one.
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soft
soft, soft tissue too soft too sensitive you'll have to harden up buck up forget your tender skin and grow scales be hard enough to take a beating be smart enough to avoid one.
Soft
I am a container for your pain you pour it into me until I am full to the brim and then wonder why I'm so heavy.
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container
I am a container for your pain you pour it into me until I am full to the brim and then wonder why I'm so heavy.
container
It isn't easy being the field either. small hills, low grass not the best shelter for small creatures yet here they are calling your landscape home. They dig under your skin, into your flesh they curl up inside your ribcage and complain that there is no room and while you suffocate from their weight they grow roots in your bones. Am I a sturdy enough foundation to support their world? Am I a strong enough foundation for my own? Dig deeper through the topsoil into the hard packed clay right down to the molten rock core of you maybe they'll find something solid enough to stand on maybe they'll find some diamonds in the mud. I love you with the intensity of the sun in the desert and the power of a wild prairie storm I love you. But it isn't easy being the field either.
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The field either
It isn't easy being the field either. small hills, low grass not the best shelter for small creatures yet here they are calling your landscape home. They dig under your skin, into your flesh they curl up inside your ribcage and complain that there is no room and while you suffocate from their weight they grow roots in your bones. Am I a sturdy enough foundation to support their world? Am I a strong enough foundation for my own? Dig deeper through the topsoil into the hard packed clay right down to the molten rock core of you maybe they'll find something solid enough to stand on maybe they'll find some diamonds in the mud. I love you with the intensity of the sun in the desert and the power of a wild prairie storm I love you. But it isn't easy being the field either.
the field either
She asked to see you today she wanted to know what you look like I flipped through old photos pointing to you a picture of your wedding a picture of you and me when I was her age. she's so much like me I don't want to talk about you, for fear the abandonment will rub off. "Where is he?" She asks "Have I met him?" she takes your pictures to her Dad and talks about you like she knows you but she doesn't. her excitement reminds me of mine when I was her age when I just wanted to know you to be near you back when my heart was soft and pliant fresh glass ready to be busted.
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buster
She asked to see you today she wanted to know what you look like I flipped through old photos pointing to you a picture of your wedding a picture of you and me when I was her age. she's so much like me I don't want to talk about you, for fear the abandonment will rub off. "Where is he?" She asks "Have I met him?" she takes your pictures to her Dad and talks about you like she knows you but she doesn't. her excitement reminds me of mine when I was her age when I just wanted to know you to be near you back when my heart was soft and pliant fresh glass ready to be busted.
buster
You will not inherit these grasping hands or restless heart You will not have to wring yourself dry to water your love starved mother. You will not have to grasp desperately at the ghost of an absent father. May you soak in the well of my abundance and absorb as much as you need. May you grow deep and thick in the fertile ground I've planted you and never wonder why you have no home.
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inheritance
You will not inherit these grasping hands or restless heart You will not have to wring yourself dry to water your love starved mother. You will not have to grasp desperately at the ghost of an absent father. May you soak in the well of my abundance and absorb as much as you need. May you grow deep and thick in the fertile ground I've planted you and never wonder why you have no home.
