mothers and daughters revisited

There are all the memories a person could want hanging on your wall. Pictures of the strangers that share our blood…pictures of us. The family tree ain’t what she used to be. You say that it’s your fault and for this I agree. You are sitting there crying about what? I do not know. You say you hate it when she does “remember when” yet your home has all the signs of way back then.

Then, you tell me how you’re sad for me – that you think your daughter’s not happy. You say how you love your son too and then ask, why can’t you? I can say with certainty that I am happy and that you don’t know me. You only know what you take the time to see. And that ain’t much.

You share with me about you mother and your sister who make you remember when. You offer the good and the bad. Yes, I agree, now you are enlightened and free. I am surprised when you ask me what things in my past are bad memories. So I tell you and you cry again for a moment. You are finally listening. You add how you feel guilty, and then your old self reappears and calls me uptight. I smile and say you’re right. But in my mind, in this rare moment, I am able to let go. I’ve finally said what I needed to say and that’s enough.

Now I am free.

Spoken word:

There are all the memories
a person could want
hanging on your wall.

Pictures of strangers
that share our blood.

Pictures of us.

The family tree
ain’t what it used to be.

You say it’s your fault.

For this—
I agree.

You’re sitting there crying.
About what?

I don’t know.

You say you hate it
when she does
“remember when.”

Yet your home
has all the signs
of way back then.

Then you tell me
you’re sad for me.

You say
you think your daughter
isn’t happy.

You say you love your son too
and then you ask—

Why can’t you?

I can say with certainty
I am happy.

And the truth is—

You don’t know me.

You only know
what you take the time
to see.

And that
ain’t much.

You tell me about your mother.
Your sister.

How they make you
remember when.

You offer the good.
And the bad.

Yes…
I agree.

Now you’re enlightened.
Now you’re free.

So I’m surprised
when you ask me
what memories
in my past
are bad ones.

But I tell you.

And for a moment
you cry again.

Because finally—

you’re listening.

You say you feel guilty.

Then your old self reappears and you call me
uptight.

I smile
and say

you’re right.

But in my mind—
in this rare moment—

I let go.

I’ve finally said
what I needed to say.

And that
is enough.

Now

I am free.