JUST WORDS.
Mama, Mama, write me,
write me
about how you wanted me,
Mama, Mama, five small words–
that I was your best idea.
Mama, Mama, I waited,
waited,
forever to hear some words
to heal the mama hole
in me,
a void in this little girl.
When you died, you wrote me,
wrote me
words of rebuke and pain,
sent in the mail by a
lawyer man,
more reproach and shame.
Mama, Mama, look down,
look down,
I’m doing the best I can
to be my own mama and
love myself
and fill the space
you left.
jle
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Beautiful. I love the rhythm of this.
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Thank you Sarah!
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Heart wrenching…
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—but in a good way, right? Thank you.
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Well, if it was me, I would say this was and is painful to me…So how do I get rid of it. The good part is you have choices on what you want to do with it and there are so many options.
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If the poem portrayed the emotion in a way you could feel it then I feel the poem succeeded. All my past and present experiences form the person in process that I am, the real and healing me.
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It totally succeeded! Thanks for sharing.
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