January 13

Maman

dark doe eyes and slippery smile
you beckon me with wide open arms 
of adoration
welcoming your child to the solace
of your embrace

Always I turn to you
like a flower is compelled 
to turn to the sun

Maman
I long for the nourishment
only a mother can give
unconditional love

Compelled, compelled
by biology or folly
I hit the fragmented slab
of your broken heart

shattered over and over
in your past which will always 
out-baggage mine
It lays exposed
a prickly mass
a sharp
cutting
place

I can't but
long
to dwell

Maman
don't cry
I'm sorry my blood
has soiled your pretty gown
has marred your perfect skin

Maman
don't cry
I'm still here
curled in your arms
against your sharp
and beating
broken
heart

like a tribal drum
like a primitive weapon
like the pattern of 
rhythm
that traps us over
and over
again

This dance

Even though
I've stopped
measuring the steps
the music haunts me still

Maman

don't cry.

It's not anyone's fault.

It's just the way it is.

Won't you sit and rest a while?

.
.
.

 

 

Leila

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