mother you’ve hurt me,
and you don’t even understand how deeply
the seeds been planted or how long its been nurtured
into this state of hopelessness.
mother i said you have hurt me,
but you’re so lost
in your own demise
you can’t see straight,
let alone comprehend what i could be feeling
when you’ve numbed yourself
out of existence for as long as you can remember.
damn it mother you hurt me,
beyond what is capable of healing,
at least that is what it can feel like sometimes
can you understand what im saying?
well…do you?
when i tell you
mother you have hurt me,
crippled me,
taught me how to find comfort
in the discomforts of misogyny,
do you understand the levels to the betrayal i feel?
mother you’ve hurt me
and i still love you,
and as much as i’ve healed on my own;
there are pieces of me that can only heal
hand in hand with you.
so thank you for hurting me
and thank you for choosing
to take this journey with me.
Day 19: Sunday Sessions.
i watched her cry.
i watched familiar lips tremble
with fear as though they might over hear,
every insecurity inflicted,
birthed by her unspoken truth.
it hit me then. she was afraid. just as much as i was.
so i let go.
even at 52 we’re still just children learning, hurting, and hopefully healing.
Oh Oshun, How I Weep…
When the plates between
My mothers shoulder blades moves
I feel the vibration of her
Stress in my bones.
When my mothers rivers and oceans
Are all used up
With a splash of oil
The thought of dehydration
Tip toes across my lips
I’m starved for life.
When the light from my mothers shine
Peeks through my window
Her warmth breath
Dries the nightly tears
I weep on her behalf
Because I can feel it…
I can feel the dyin
Of one of the worlds greatest gift
Her…
This divine mass of land
That holds itself up above level
Forced to pump poison into our lungs
Forced to breed, lack of nutrition
Mother can’t move like she used to
Can’t show us her love
She willingly gives
All we need to do is ask.
But we take
Strip her of her roots
That allow us to take breath
We take and we take and we take
And so I
Can feel the dying In turn
Of us.
Mother who provides
I see your light in the deadest of nights
and brightest of days
and soon hope to lay my head to rest.
- a spiritual journey
Jari G. Planning 