mother.
She is mother, watching baby float, suspended in this grei air of pus and clouds. She can see her
child, encased in pure light. The child is in a force field, paper-thin but present. She will reach out to
touch this, the object of her every thought, every concern, this child, but she will always end up on the
floor. This force field is strong, and shall always try to push her there. She puts her back against the
wall. It's so hard to watch but not to touch. Baby moves, like a pulsating bag of flesh, like it is dead and
the movement is only part of an accelerated decomposition process. Child is alive, but she will never
know for certain, for has she not seen animated flesh that was both alive and dead, all at once, all the
same? She looks at her hands, and wants to weep, for they are wrinkled like paper bags, just as baby was
when they showed it to her first. She tries to cradle her own hands, as though they were children. She
feels such violent pangs of seperation for that which is not two feet in front of her. An umbilical cord
does not know how to stretch, only break. Hearts are this way too. She wonders briefly why things always
end this way for her, why things always fall down the same killing well. One look at baby and she falls
down there again. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes and get trapped in her crow's feet. The light is
so beautiful, so coldly, horribly beautiful it's heartless. This beauty is killing her. She tries to be happy
for baby, enclosed in such a perfect envelope. This trying--it is no use. She cannot manage to be happy
for one so young and seemingly innocent, already imprisoned. The grei is overtaking her; she can feel it
seeping into her lungs. She is having trouble breathing. She knows her eyes are turing grei because she
can't see. Sightless now, she lunges forward in the direction of the child that was once hers. To shatter
this force, to darken this light that hurts styll her dead eyes. To take back what was locked away. She
can't do it. She knows she must endure the pain of the leeches upon her chalky skin. She sees. ~
run away run away is there anybody THERE.
my poem aka sleep aid for you.
go away?
Email: reflectingoddess@mailcity.com