I have come a long way to be able to write this poem, to cellularly feel and breath the words as deep as any truth of mine can be... I was born to a volatile mother, a rageaholic. She broke my heart in a thousand ways and then... she took her life. I spent years angry at her, not necessarily at her death, but at the life I was fated to live with her. I needed to heal my mother wound. It was 'do or die'. My inner child ached inside the woman I was becoming and the mother to my son that I longed to be. Healing that wound was no easy road. I wrote my anger onto a thousand pages with my left hand, my right hand, I wrote until my hands cramped and the pages ripped. One day I asked my grandmother to send me photos of my mother when she was young. I knew that if I could just access her innocence, I would be able to forgive her. We all start out innocent until something comes along and twists our souls into torment, like it did with my mom. Her ...
Women's Spiritual Poetry