Amherst Writing Workshop 3

Originally posted on my old writing blog on June 5, 2019

For a short time, you were a stranger

For a short time, you were a stranger. Squishy face, blue eyes, pink lips. Barely able to fit into a shoe box. You looked so small in the hospital bassinet. Blankets covered in little footprints wrapped around and around you. I held you in my arms and I marveled at how you are a part of me, yet very separate from me. Your father’s nose, my cheeks. You will become my world and me, yours.

I wonder if I will do better than those before me.

Fourteen years will pass and once again you will be a stranger. The little boy that had to sleep in my bed is gone. Now you like music I have never heard of. You dream of building habitats on the moon. You have a whole life that, once was only me, but now I only play a small part; relegated to personal grocery shopper, chef, and chauffeur.

I have to wonder, am I a stranger to you?

 

Writing Workshop 1

Originally posted on an old blog on July 10, 2019

This was written in a workshop and the prompt was the first line from Rudy Francisco’s poem “Petal” from his book Helium

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The tongue has a jagged beauty

Some of the words you say are beautiful enough enough for the flower garden, bright and happy in the sun. Some of your words are like shattered glass that I have to tip toe around. I miss the days of dandelion words shining yellow in dark days when all is thought to be lost. You would bring me so many yellow flowers they would burst like fireworks from your pockets, the words you spoke were unconditional and reverent. Small words, child words full of love and hope that you now you wield like a broken bottle in a bar fight. Not always because of me, but always directed at me. I am no longer the sun around which your little planet revolved but the annoyance. The cop, the judge, the one who restrains, the one who controls. You don’t see my pain as you cut me. I try to hide it when I can. You are learning life. You know I will never leave. You don’t know that I understand. I have been there. I have hurt with my words. It is my penance to accept the scars you give me as punishment for the scars I have given. You don’t know what one day you will have scars to match mine. I hope you accept them with grace. I hope you are patient as they are created. I hope you will be able to see the beauty in them as I have.

 

Amherst Writing Workshop 2

Repost from one of my old blogs. Originally posted on July 17, 2019.

In 2019 I participated in an online writing workshop with Amherst Writer’s and Artists. One of these days I will be able to afford to take the certification classes to run my own workshops. We would get a starting line and then run with it.

This is one of the prompts we were given.

It takes a while for our experience to sift through our consciousness…

Like when I gave birth to my son and experienced post-partum depression. All you know is the moment. It makes perfect sense tat the time. The, a few years later, you see the pictures. Read the words you wrote. Remember some of what you said or why you make certain decisions and you realize how things truly were.

It made sense to me to be overprotective. It made sense to me to not ever let him out of my sight. Now, 14 years later, that very first year is a blur. I have little memory of our first year together as mother and son, as a family other than it being hard, that it was too much. That I wanted to leave.

I don’t have the same problem with my daughter. I knew how hard it had been the firs time. I sought help, got better. I remember. I will always regret not getting help with my son. Then again, I do remember trying. I remember telling the doctor and being told I had to go elsewhere for help. I remember being devastated.

The funny thing is how trauma sifts through the filter of time. How a young love was toxic, but realized too late. How stubbornness was really helplessness. How things were much worse than they seemed.

The good thing is how it allows you to forgive yourself. To not make the same mistakes. To learn and do better. Maya Angelou once said, “When you know better, you do better.” It is in the distance that we learn.

 

WIP Excerpt – 12/30/2020

“So, who wants to tell our beloved captain she needs to lighten up?”

“Not me. I told you about that time she got really pissed and started throwing things in the apartment. I ended up sleeping on the couch for a few days to not piss her off more. Uh uh. Not me,” Kami said.

“Not me. She scares me,” Marley chimed in.

All eyes turned to Dominic and suddenly he felt like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

“What? She don’t even like me, man,” he said.

“That is why you should be the one to do it. She already doesn’t like you so…you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”