stuck to me
like glue
some from birth
others as a courtesy of
birth
none so mysterious
harsh (by others)
guilt (by me)
shame (fuck off)
as
being a mother
interlinking all others
together
this is the monster
the inland taipan
the black mamba
the gila monster
the king of king of cobras
what does it mean?
some days waking up from a dream
of embracing god
to your screams
cries
a nightmare
blue tac stuck to your hair
or was it rainbow coloured
the tac, not the monster
half-dazed, walking down the stairs
to get a pair of scissors
shaking the remnants of the dream
the embrace
when will i see you again, god?
chopping off your hair,
thinking
i am sure there is another way
6 am is too early for me
So now
you snuggled next to me
tears dried
returning to your dreams
while i lay awake
another day
too many in-betweens
too many to count
too many to write about
enjoying the warm cup of chai
with paratha
my favourite
drink, you say, is
water
i always tell you
to
go to sleep
you say these things to your
teacher
you ask me why you are always angry
you repeat what you told your teacher
she asks me too
so i spend the next few days
searching every crevice
nook
cranny
all the weird places
the fold of my skins
the white of my hair
the pain in my jaw
how did you notice the anger
i had layered it good
laced it with honey
and fresh creme
when you are around
no work before 10 am
nor after 4 pm
until you are in bed
your every transition
smooth
to preschool
to shower
to bed
to eating
me counting the breaths
noticing all the colours
bulshit
oh, there it is
the anger
you see
so i bring in the stickiest of the –
feeling, stuck to being a
mother
guilt
big G
spending the next
72 hours
reflecting
revolting
occupying the space in between
even in dreams
shunning the embrace of god
finally (again and again)
accepting
you are here
i am here
this one label
out of all the others
that stuck
and if you were to really
see
between the crevices
below the margins
you will know
i welcome it
i let this one stuck
the label
my love to you
To live or to exist 