Mother2rah’s Weblog

Leftover Sand

Hands grab at me,

tug me up out of dreams

leave my lying

on the cold morning sand,

those leftover grains from the sandman’s bag.

I shiver, reach out, pull comfort around

shake the nightmare back from my memory

let it cascade

down

between

my shoulders,

slinking away from beneath the covers.

If I try I can

hear it scurry out

across the floor,

hide beneath a pile

of  dirty clothes

or sagging bed

(it seeps down to the floor, cradles us uncomfortable.)

The sandman hasn’t been by

to clean up

his mess, handout

a fresh sprinkling of calm-

he’s left us

only cold yesterday sand.

Siobhan

03/17/07

 Exposed

Stripped of outer layers, I stand-introvert

exposed to the world.  I reach to cover

those parts of me I find too imperfect

for another’s eyes, the flaws evident.

My fingers spread out to criss-cross across,

a loose weave that hides nothing, not even

the whisper of my age-shining grey curls

that peek through a tangle of sun-warmed blonde.

I snap pictures of parts, puzzle pieces

for you to paste together-the complete

image perhaps not better, I’m certain,

than air-brushed imaginations make me.

Blurred exposure, softened at the edges

I reveal myself to you in pieces.

Siobhan

09/28/07

Down the Edge of You

Pushed away from the edge of touching you
trapped mid-motion, my finger tips curl in,
wrapping around one another just shy
of connection. As words pile up between
us, filling in the emptiness, silent
questions with no answers, all thought is lost.

Bewilderment sets in—it’s been so long
since you spent this much time away from me.
 
It takes two pairs of lips to kiss hello
one pair to whisper, I’m right here – alone.
 I’ve lost you between the pages of a book,
each sheaf of paper swallowing pieces.
I can read yet not reach inside to touch
so run my finger down the edge of you.

Siobhan
09-11-07

Little White Pills

They have given me a little white pill

something to help my heart through its spasms

pain that interrupts breath-my existence

It will not repair damage done by years,

the self-neglect, ignorance, or being

unaware of who I am-how I fit

In your world, I am a given, assumed

present, unless otherwise told to fade

a background you lose sight of, interest in

Miracle drugs don’t exist in my world

for this ailment I cannot shake free of

it is part of me- inescapable.

All the little white pills piled up high

won’t rekindle a life-or a love-lost.

Siobhan

09/12/07

She asks the question, without words, wondering if the connection is still as strong - eight years later. “Can you hear the echo even this early, before the full moon reaches its zenith? Before the sun crests the horizon, eclipsing the moon with his brazen attack on my desire for more sleep? It was just a whisper of I love you.”

His silence answers back, booming inside her head, “I hear it, even when you only think the words.”

 Corn Pollen Aftershave

Heaviness sits on my chest

resting, an unwelcome summertime

guest, the one who stays overlong

wearing corn-pollen aftershave

stinking the air around me.

I try to explain away my shortness

of breath-the painful process

each inhalation leaden

each exhalation sluggish-

rationalize the discomfort.

Words are too much work

fighting to find them with my brain

clouded, swaddled in liquid air,

becomes impossible until I give

up the right ones.

Once I let go of precision

express with the simple gesture

-hand clutched to chest-

my distress, I am free

no longer a slave to this seasonal caller.

In the blackened world

-unconsciousness-

not even the scent of farmland

or thick odor of reproduction

penetrates my existence.

Siobhan

07-07-07

No Memory of Summer

My child looks at me in wonder

when he nears the end of school

asks when my vacation will begin

and I tell him that I no longer get it

Every year the question has come back

circled around as the sun returned

dragging summer along with it

except this year-one returned without the other

He does not remember summer vacation

trips to the mountains, the seashore or the lake

they are not a piece of his past-nor my own

now vacations fall in pieces, hour by hour

I take one here and another there

shove two or three together when time allows

wishing I lived in Europe somewhere far away

mandated to four or six weeks of separation

from my desk and the endless paper shuffle

that daily dance, going nowhere fast.

For me-vacation is a dream

and Summer slips past in one blink.

Siobhan

26 May 2005

 Higher than Dreams

I left you at the doorstep;

said goodbye

walked away-

not far-only the length of invisible space,

the distance of a phone call

or electronic click of the computer.

My tears hidden from your view,

wiped on the shoulder of your shirt

before I kissed your cheek

and smiled.

I knew your success

even beneath the fear

of failure-yours and mine.

And when I welcomed you home

I had to reach up to kiss your cheek

higher than I thought the dreams

would take you before they took you

away from me again.

This time the walk is shorter

but the distance greater.

This time you will see my tears

because you need to

understand they are proud,

a display of that success

-this time mine as well as yours-

that no longer bows to fear.

Siobhan

06/30/07

Down the Edge of You 

Pushed away from the edge of touching you
trapped mid-motion, my finger tips curl in,
wrapping around one another just shy
of connection. As words pile up between
us, filling in the emptiness, silent
questions with no answers, all thought is lost.

Bewilderment sets in—it’s been so long
since you spent this much time away from me. 

It takes two pairs of lips to kiss hello
one pair to whisper, I’m right here – alone. 

I’ve lost you between the pages of a book,
each sheaf of paper swallowing pieces.
I can read yet not reach inside to touch
so run my finger down the edge of you. 

Siobhan
09-11-07