tonight i miss my mother as if i am grieving her death. i see her body in the casket of our inherited rage, dressed in garnet remorse and untimely age. in a way i am grieving my own life, because my mother is the cornerstone of my entirety. so when i exhale late-night smoke, my reddened eyes gloss over while i think of everything i regret saying to her. then i cry. i cry like a child for the first time in months, as if i am baptized into my birthright. surrounded by the damp emptiness of an absent god. i realize we are the succession of wounded daughters becoming scarred mothers. i still sob, and i scream, and i mourn. i mourn the feeling of her hugs when i was small: her motherly warmth shrouding me from my fate. i mourn her in the graveyard of our genetic distaste, our tombs side by side. we are simply replicas of every mother that has lived in the body of a hurt daughter. tonight i miss my mom and i grieve the death of the daughter she never had the chance to be.
tonight i miss my mom
More by Sawyer Fell
-
With My Mother in My Chest. My Chest
Eight AM, I wake in my father’s home with my mother in my chest.
-
To Relive or to Remember
There was a vacant bathroom outside the church park.
I crawl in beat, destitute, feeding off the radiant waves.
I stare into a warped mirror punched by drunken twilight boys, -
In Knowing You, For But a Moment
On the porch, with grooves of woven twine
embedded into the underbelly of my thighs,
I sit and listen intently for you. My ears perked,
with unruly fire-streaked hair tucked behind them,
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.