Mother wounds

am I so lucky, unlucky? Aimless and naive

When my heart stops, half crumbled

The mother wound creeping inside out

The deepest of all the most important parts of this scar

Is that we all know what it means

But the fact is

The wailing of our collective scars

Are sealed, seamed, stitched, silenced

Cocooned in a cold, glass, silken shell

Why does she torment me with the scars of all of the things she threw at my heart

Why does every sudden syllable sound like a whole murder

A stabbing that sounds like a beating that was for your own good

The whole thing of it cannot connect all the dots

The entire story is just broken

If my mother sounds like she wants to wound me, does the hit just crack like a thousand year old memory, a glass mirror that doesn’t reflect?

I can’t imagine not talking to my mother

The scars run through like a ancient stone in an ancient river

Rain that was washed away from the desert from Moses

No,

When Eve blew back the wind that made her fall

And sliced her hair to cover the deathly shadows of her Mother wound,

Did she cry forth to the heavens

Did she have a mother to understand her scars

A Father, yes

I can’t understand why I am sewn to this chain of scars

Why do I cradle my feet underneath my dreary womb

Living in a house above the stars

The endless stream of light that calls to me

The mother scar of all scars

I’m terrified to leave the room

We all rip our mothers open

To see this beauty

The same meaning of horror and love

The magnitude of magic that holds no sparkle, only dust, blood and chaos

That feeling of such a layered shared power

Scars that draw an audience that peers, leers and judges

The world tethered together by a sexless voice in a sinful dialogue of human

dignity, where is our hope in a new brave future

Worthy of nightmares that make old scars seem like a distant scratch