Monday, July 30, 2007

i've known you

there's something terribly romantic about umbrellas...girls in red shoes...waiting beside windows for lovers...a drawn bath with hair up...patchwork quilts...hand holding underneath the table...old books read in pj's and socks...slow dancing to jazz...playing that song that reminds me of him over and over and over again...stairwells...eating ice cream out of the tub...kisses on the forehead...watching you sleep...winks across the room...touching my arm when i am by your side

i try to hide my love...but everyone knows...they all know...

your black shirt lays folded on the corner of my bed...i won't touch it...move it...waiting for you

i've washed you out of my pillow 5 times... one wash for everyday you do not return

where can i go that you are not?

i've known you for years...i've known you for months...i've known you for seconds

what am i to you?

Saturday, July 28, 2007

i am country

tomato gravy...big grandmama's specialty...sometimes i would eat it with a spoon

camp stew and lemonade stands...10 cents a cup...my cousin debra

the mail-man that always pulled a peppermint from behind my ear...(how did he do that?)

being spanked with fly swatters, switches off bushes, and bare hands

crawling underneath beds and up into attics

sugar cookies and biscuits

walking down railroad tracks with chocolate milk we stole from uncle jessie's service station

red clay dirt roads

riding the golf cart down to the mailbox or over to the dump

picking tomatoes in big grandmother's garden without her knowing and eating them like an apple

funerals and funerals and funerals of family members with names like aunt pearl, aunt mary-lou, dotty, granddaddy pue, cousin patricia, grandmama bernice

fried deer meat and red kool-aid with no ice

kool cigarettes and homemade ashtrays

short hair cuts and big size women in house slippers

dresses made by hand to fit around their wide wastes and stomachs filled with the best southern cookin you ever could taste...with all the fixins and butter and grease

houses that carried the smell of bacon and coffee

bonnets and brooms

bare feet

fishin poles and crickets

skinned knees and long stringy, tangled hair

hand-me-down over sized clothes

hide-n- go seek in your yard and the neighbors yard and the one across the street

watching braves games and the soaps

lying to her and him and "don't tell your mama" this and "don't tell your daddy" that

black and white photographs hanging on the walls

and big ole hugs...pulled in tight between breasts as big as watermelons

my forehead would catch the sweat on the top of her chest as a result of years of taking care of
her family and the neighbor's family and her children's children

and letting the little girl down the street spend the night for reasons they would never tell me why...except to "stay away from her daddy"

big rifles and guard dogs

love sent through hands in the kitchen and collard greens on the table

eatin everything on my plate because of the starving children in Africa

fried okra and green beans

Big Grandmama

southern Alabama

these are my roots

i am country

its light outside tonight

pouring grace all over those who have poured grace over me

clorox the walls and hearts...my heart

looking into peoples eyes so broken that you can't not love them

no matter what they've done... no matter what

letting go of anger while you desperately try to hold on

because it's your only way to protect yourself...

so you don't feel...so you keep them states away

seeing her laugh for the first time in years...seeing her awake...

then seeing her sadness and her longing for a relationship with me

my bitter heart feels tremendous amounts of guilt

if i could hold that guilt for a year i would

if it meant that it would soften my soul

if it meant that i would be kinder and more forgiving

more understanding and less judgemental

if it meant that others would not be afraid of my anger...or my words

if it meant that I could be just 80% selfless...

i would suffer for a year

if i could just understand love a little bit more

or at all for that matter

sometimes i feel like i don't love anyone but myself

nor could i ever really love anyone if i tried

please don't judge me

even though i've probably judged you

please forgive me

even though i probably haven't forgiven you

i don't like myself for it

i loath that part of me

the part when i speak too quickly about the mess around me

like i played no part in it

like it's all your fault for getting yourself into this

please let me feel this guilt for just a year

so i can truly stand beside you for the rest of my life...or the rest of yours

without you having fear that you are a disappointment to me

you looked so beautiful...i forgot how beautiful you were

you are my blood...thick you run through my veins...thick i run through yours

i just want us to be okay

Sunday, July 22, 2007

her body a temple

her body a temple

wanting to be breathed in, tasted, sipped on, swallowed down.

she fights mind and body against conviction of "purity" and desire... against the things that make her blush to remember, burn underneath her belly button, tingle down there as if it was happening all over again...she crosses her legs tightly, and if feels good.

the color of gray reminds her of him...he tasted like rain

her head falls back...she shakes...always has, can never stay still..."shhhhhhhh" he says...

crawling backwards, relentless chasing...wanting to be caught...she forgets about the insecurities of her body... about the lack of planning what to wear underneath

why does he like the lights on?

hand behind her fallen neck and she wants to give in...to let him take her over...and over and over again...

but she doesn't...wants to so badly her stomach aches...

and it's over...


......................"so, you need a ride home?"...............................

and she remembers why she doesn't

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

i wish i could make it rain

9 year old female

i cupped her soft cheek in my hand and ran my finger between her eyes at the top of her nose...

"hey little lady, wow...i like your scar...when did you get it?... i don't remember it being there last summer"

"i'm supposed to lie"

"lie about the scar?"

"yea, pa-paw told me to lie...he said to tell everyone that i fell"

"did you fall?"

"no"

"what happened?"

(silence)

"i'm sorry...you don't have to tell me...i'm sure you have your reasons...but if someone is hurting you...are you okay?"

she begins to bite her lip and a tear escapes from her left eye...

"he cut me...he cut me with some glass...he was mad at me and he broke a bottle and cut my face...but...it was an accident...he didn't mean too...and i was being bad...real bad...and i shouldn't have been"

"look at me...hey...look at me...no one...NO ONE should put their hands on you that way...i don't care what you did...how bad you were...YOU ARE WORTH MORE...look at me...you are worth more baby"

(silence)

"will you adopt me? i'll be good for you...promise"

i wonder what kind of a person can cut their child...not hit or slap across the face...but CUT and slowly slice an X in a child's forehead?...ill tell you who...someone that i'm sure will end up in hell one day, if there is a hell...and if there's not...certainly karma will get him...no wonder she fights...no wonder she runs away...i would too...because if she didn't...she might die...and i don't mean that metaphorically...but let's identify her as "oppositional defiant" because...well... if not then we might have to remove her from her home...and we want to keep all the children in their homes if possible...it's the fucking American way right?

it's bullshit if you ask me

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10 year old female

"hey darlin, your skirt...there's something on your skirt...why don't you run to the bathroom and make sure you didn't have an accident"

she has problems with hygiene in general...we've been working on cleanliness for months...low functioning mother, completely unable to parent...emotional absent father....poor...poor...poor

another therapist grabs me...hands me pads and says 'she has asked for you'

"can i come in?"

"yeah"

a smell hits me stronger than death...i feel my lunch shoot up to my throat...she stands there, taller than i...breast bigger than mine...size 18...skirt and panties down...mother nature has colored her from knees up, panties and skirt soaked from the fall of woman...hands covered in blood...she holds them forward, palms up

"i don't know what to do...what am i supposed to do...what is happening?"

i couldn't breath...unbathed, overweight, and unaware...i couldn't breath...i force out a smile

"this is what happens to our bodies when we start turning into women...congratulations!...i know this must be weird but it's okay...you're not sick or dying"

"I felt down there and i didn't feel a cut...and now my hands...they have blood all over them...my hands..."

her hands were shaking and she began to cry

"no worries, hey listen...this is happened to every woman you and i know...it's happened to all of us...to me...to your mother...to your therapist...to your teachers...it's okay...as a matter of fact...i'm glad i get to be here with you to talk about it...it's a pretty big step pretty girl"

"really?...i'm not dying?...should we go to the hospital?...what do i do now?"

"here are some wipes...wipe everything until your skin is clean...wipe in between your legs front and back until there is no more color on the wipes...take off your clothes, put them in this bag and tie it up tight...wrap all wipes that you used into a ball of toilet paper and put in in the garbage so no one can see anything that looks like blood...then wash your hands and underneath your fingernails...I will be right back with some brand new clothes and then we will talk...woman to woman"

she pushes out a tearful smile

i walk out the door and run straight outside...breath in deeply the hot Kentucky air... so young and so alone...no woman to teach her how to care for herself... how to be proud of her body and its changes...no woman to teach her how to put in a tampon or what pads to buy...no one to teach her how to clean herself...no woman to wash her clothes stained with womanhood and no one to put a heating pad on her belly and buy her pop sickles to ease her nerves...no one to proudly push her hair out of her face and comfort her new step as a female......no one...she has no one
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8 year old male

"i hate you...you made him leave...i heard you say it...you said 'don't come home'...it's your fault...you're not my mama...you don't love me...if you did then you wouldn't have made dad have a heart attack and leave us...your the one that has problems...you scratched him and threw his shoe in the toilet...and it wasn't even flushed...your crazy and made him go away...i'm finding a new mother"

mother sits in tears...i let him continue

"call him mom...do you have his number?...just call him and tell him how much we feel...tell him how much we love him and how much we miss him...you haven't even called...you made him leave"

dad's a liar...makes promises that he can't keep...sat in my office 3months ago and committed to 4 couples sessions to work things out...mother confronts him about an affair...he denies...she leaves the room for a bathroom break and he moves closer to me...makes a joke...and winks...yeah...he's having an affair...and beating off to his therapist at night...he leaves her the next day...on her 33 birthday

" maybe we could call his mom and dad and they will yell at him and spank him and then he'll come back to us...or if i see him i can hit him in the balls or pour chemicals in his eyes and then he'll come back because he'll know what we feel like all by our self in the house without him"

"yoooooooooooouuuuu are the reason he left mom...because your crazy...you are...he doesn't have problems...YOU DO...and i hate you for making him go...I HATE YOU!...i cut my leg and YOU didn't even call him to take care of me...you told him to stay away...he doesn't love YOU anymore so he stays away from us...you made him not love you and now you're the reason he won't see me"


mom did call...his father refused to come to the hospital...

"my daddy is a liar...he lied to his first wife and us and he will leave his new girlfriend...mom...call his new girlfriend because she might love us if she knew us...but he'll just leave her too and then she can be on our side like everybody else and then he'll be alone and he'll know what it's like to feel like we feel and then he'll remember that he loves you mom and he loves me and then everything will be back to normal and no one will be sad anymore...just call him mom...and call his parents...everything is going to be back to normal right? right mom? will you call him and tell him you miss him and i miss him, okay?"


his new girlfriend is carrying his new baby...what do you tell this child who has every right to be angry...every reason to yell and cry and try to find something, someone, anyone to blame...when we don't understand...when we don't have closure...how do we move on? how does a 8 year old move on? how does a therapist of a 8 year old help him move on?


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this is my day...i cried all the way home...i haven't been able to stop thinking about them...hurting for them...weeping for them...i washed the smudged mascara from my eyes and put lotion on my face, noticing the smooth of my skin on my forehead...i took a bath and cleaned between my legs three times...and was thankful for having women in my life to address my growing body's needs......i called my mother to say i was sorry for any harsh words i have spoken to her unfairly...

maybe God will let me hurt a little for them tonight...so they can have a little relief....so they can sleep easy and not be afraid that someone will hurt them...again...ignore them...again...or leave them...again...

i wish i could make it rain on their insides...and the ugly parts would wash out of their toes

Thursday, July 12, 2007

home

Pit as deep as black...white used to be the walls now tainted yellow from smoked lungs and heavy coughing...stained teeth...empty pill bottles and old bills...the smell of depression and deceit so thick it hovers over like a cloud meant only for this place...

Deep lines cover a face that make-up never touched until I said "It makes you beautiful...more beautiful"...Downward spiral of shame until she holds out her hands...empty, stares into them..."Don't come...you're the only thing i did right...please don't come" Lowering her voice...head heavy hung down so far her beautiful hair covered her exhausted and hopeless eyes...too tired...too damn beaten down for excuses or blaming...

I am silent...screaming inside...I feel nothing...everything...nothing at all...angry, so angry i am numb

"Hello...are you there...i know it's you...you're number came up...please...i'm sorry, so sorry"... his sorrowful voice shaking...pleading...i hold the speaker to my forehead..."baby?"... he means it...and i believe him...i always do when i hear him say my name like that...I can't speak...won't speak...have nothing left...feel nothing...thumb presses hard...my spirit connects with the monotone sound of the dial tone... and I rock to the melody of nothingness...

The basement floor is checkered...It looks different from the ceiling...I've never been here before... it's peaceful...and I'm suprised at how delicate I look below me...I would never describe myself as delicate...wish that I could....wrapped up with both knees tight to my chest...and i look like her...and him...and i look sad...just like her... and him...but i don't feel sad...i don't feel...i don't...

i wish i could make it rain on the inside...and the ugly parts would wash out of my toes...I am everything you think i am, nothing you think i am... I am home

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Home. There was nothing to do but pack my suitcase and wade into it. ~ sue monk kidd~