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September 12, 2011

A private, raw poem that I figured I needed to finally share (a slightly older piece). How else can I ever become a writer if I don’t allow my most honest words to be seen by others? I need to stop being so afraid.

The mixture of you two:
one part love
in exchange for
one part lust.

I am nothing more than
a convoluted coupling,
a curious coil
of chromosomes and cells.

You labored for me
twenty one hours long
and haven’t given me
a minute more since.

Perhaps I broke your soul
when I broke your water.
Perhaps I stole everything out from inside you,
leaving you barren and bitter.

For years I tried to finger paint
any resemblance between us.
But our coloring and cheekbones
are as different as the contours of our hearts.

I have languished under your gender all my life.
I do not understand your womanly ways.
You still turn heads at fifty-nine
and I am overlooked at twenty-five.

But now I too am laboring with child.
I call her Forgiveness.
I hate her as much as you hate me
and Mother, I fear abandonment will be our only bond.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. September 14, 2011 7:28 pm

    Raw, yes, not very elegant but I think this adds to it. It adds to the feeling it leaves in me as reader and gives me a feeling of actually hearing you speaking the words to her, in a low, almost whispering, voice.

    Thank you for sharing!

    • September 15, 2011 9:46 am

      Thank you for taking the time to read and to comment. I’m very glad you stopped by. 🙂

  2. September 16, 2011 10:20 pm

    As a fellow writer, this paints a very emotional, but beautiful picture Jenn. “But our coloring and cheekbones are as different as the contours of our hearts.” That line is amazing. I can relate to that comment in so many ways, and it’s perfect. I hope you never stop writing from your heart. It’s beautiful.

  3. September 24, 2011 10:49 pm

    Thank you for your courage in sharing this with us. -Kurt 🙂

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