I will never be mothered again. deliver, dispense but never receive my mother’s love has gone.


Margins are critical for the integrity of this home and anxiety erodes the foundation. the stable one, unable to keep the walls anchored, holding on with all her strength is anguished, is depleted she falls and is crushed beneath the impossible weight of her expectations. She did not accept the reality that she could not hold…


Chaotic torrents of fear consume and dominate; disrupting my days in womanly and oppressive ways I fear the time, the transitions and damage to the bonds. For though the bonds are strong, the gusts of shame overcome me with puissant aggression threatening my grip on you.


I wonder what could have been had there not been forbearance for, bearing you has irrevocably altered me transformed, transfixed me. my wonder leads to sorrow, not longing (at least not for long) for in my wonder I remind myself to dwell not on if but is.

or not

The fear of doing this to her led me to tremble and mourn for I longed to control the outcomes to run far from cruel irony and facilitate smooth maturation without trauma or casualty But what I neglected to consider was the faithfulness maintained and sustained in my ruin has depicted a path towards restoration…


Unfulfillment fuels deep resentment for being shaped to sacrifice Forsaken; you must nurture others and never the self Guilt and shame well up for being perceived to be running away from them towards self, or so it seems, and forcefully expected to fulfill the only role you may do The only role You can do…