Blades
The only thing my mama ever gave me was the ability to write the things I could not say
When her brother was shot six times in the face
When cancer claimed her grandmother’s life
When she lost full custody of us
When she was sentenced to 6 years in prison
Her heart remained intact…she let the pen bleed
In all that time she never called
She never had the courage to say she was sorry for missing everything
She never said she was sorry she missed my first kiss…the first time my heart broke
Really the second
The first time was when my 13th birthday came and went without hearing her voice
I thought she was a coward, hiding behind pen and paper
Sealing her thoughts in a crisp white envelope
Mailing them off, distancing herself from them; distancing herself from me
I hated her
I loved her
Fix her Jesus!
I cried to Him all through the night
The mornings light brought me no joy
Who could understand?
A love so deep as ours
One dripped in hate, regret and resentment
One that refused to apologize
Focus on your studies, teachers said
Your safe now baby, daddy said
Jesus will work it out, grandma said
The world glared at me
Keep it together!
For a writer the equivalent of skin kissing blade
Is pen to page
A pain that soothes
With my mother’s blood rushing through my veins
Boiling with a rage that only we know
I screamed from the tip of a ball point
Wounds flew open unapologetically
I bleed
I bleed until my veins were dry
I have never felt more alive