meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

(A Prayer of Intercession--Brief Joy)

Upwards Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

What If



Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

the slave is freed

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

All Beings Considered

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

Max on the max

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

A Man Called Tsuris

For The Loss Of A Ghost Like You

Love A Cat

Fragile Shell Of Morning

I Long For Stars

I Feel Fine(r)

The Crow Is A Songbird

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

And With Words I Let Them Go

When He Returns From The Road

Flashes, Glimpses, Moments, Time

the brand of disappointment

Boy Restored

Please Don't Bring Me Flowers

No Woman's Friend

Ramada

Sometimes I Hear Him

the life and times of Medusa

why not ask the cat?

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She Is My Friend


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at five
mine was not the world
but my Mother's opinion of me
she was the be-all
the say-so,
the ender of me

they can't look at you
Mother would say
her voice had a keen edge to it
she knew how to cut a wound and
deliver it

she was my world then
the mirror in front of me
how could I refuse to look into
its reflection

but Mothers sometime tell lies
there are Mothers
who ought not to be Mothers

in an effort to hide
her own imperfections
my Mother's mirror was the broken one
not mine

but for a long time
her oft repeated messages
bit into me
I attempted to find off the bites
but felt the wound daily

others were of a similar opinion
doling out suspect information

you're invisible they'd say
but I had arms/leg/a body/face

no one cares to hear your cries
but I learned how to soothe myself

you have no need of love
but at night I hugged myself into a tight vee

we have no need of you
but I had no need of them

your silence makes you stupid
but I knew their ignorance made them foolish
how could they know me
when they hadn't bothered to listen

we prefer your silences
but I preferred theirs more
one can become worn down by so many words

eventually I grew quiet and quieter
hiding myself in the daylight
pretending I was the darkness
believing no one would notice
me in my cloak of invisibility

soon enough I vowed
my sacred orphan-hood,
my willful defiance
my mulish stubbornness
my long silences of the tongue

these credos became my friends
my comforters
my protectors
my mechanisms

I acquired an ability
to leave my body at will
this was to be my best defense
in my growing arsenal

today when
anyone tells me
it wasn't my fault
I feel anger
my jaw automatically
re-sets itself

it took a while to know
some of these people
were telling me the truth

deep within my dark self
I carry with me
the knowledge
I was never flawed

it wasn't my place to accept
anyone's estimations of me
the belief the I'm nothing


the mirrors they looked into
were reflections of
their own ugliness

its hard to be present
old habits can be old friends

I listen to myself now
when the cloying voice that rises up
the clamoring wine of self-doubt
I reassure her


it will take time to unmake
the past
but I have time

within me are the seeds of many flower flowers
I choose when to water them
when to sit in the sun and the rain of my life

I know beauty now
who and what she looks like

she's me
I recognize her many voices
I am her
she is my friend
and I am hers

LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS WORK/POEM 11;46AM PST JUNE 13 2017
AND ALSO FOR THIS AUTHOR/POET/WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD


re-edited for clarification
June 14 2017 11:07AM PST





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