My Daughter

I'm sure I had a daughter in my past.

I can feel her presence, sometimes.
When I think of baby things, I know it's her things I think of.
When people talk about the joys of having a daughter- I know,
because I had you.

I can't help but think of your beautiful long hair,
each strand perfect,
and your cheeks soft and chubby.
Sleeping in my arms, you had candy dreams.

And I remember your first brave smile as you smiled up at me,
as you stepped into school alone.
I remember that sweet touch that handed me a share of candy.
I remember a sweet little girl, twirling around in her long, thick, golden embroidered skirt, trying to look grown up.

I was just mesmerized the way you put on your make-up as you got ready to go out with your friends.
You waved me goodbye as I watched you drive out.

And I remember the wet napkin as I wiped away your tears and your cold.

And tea.
I feel we have a bond like no other.

The way your eyes would plead me for an extra book, an extra hair-clip, an extra sticker sheet.

I remember your wedding day.
You were marring the man of your dreams,
I couldn't believe my daughter was going to be someone's wife.
And I was hoping for her own baby girl.
Those beautiful gold and diamond necklaces your wore,
the lace and embroidery on your bridal-ware...
It was fascinating.

Dear,
if I meet you in the street now,
I know I will recognize you.
Will you remember me?

A Daughter of Mother Earth

I was born a daughter of mother earth.
In a city, crowded by a million people;
I cried as I took my first breath of the stained and impure air in the hospital;
in the arms of my parents I lay sleeping.

As I clutched the dry, red mud and
tasted the dry red earth in my mouth,
far from the cleanest,
I wonder what I was thinking.
It tasted like Mud, they'd said.
Mud.
It tasted heavenly.

I drank my first drop of the rain.
It made me thirsty for a thousand years.

The city whined to me,
her fatigue I could feel.
Lodged in the corner of the heaving bus, I stole a moment of peace as a hundred, sweat-drenched bodies poked fun at the indolent sun.

My feet crunched dirt,
my red eyes watered as I prepared a meal
and the sky looked dry as the desert.
I was praying for a little rain.

I was 15 and a half when I left the place I'd known for the last 15 and a half years;
scared to the last fiber of my being;
happy thro every single one.

The mud across the 7 seas was particularly the same.
I tasted the rain again.
Like a toddler, I babbled.
I smiled and did my homework like a good girl.

I was born to mother earth.
She had me in her stomach as long as my mother did.
Even longer.

Longer

I'd talk the night away.

In your eyes,
I can see the universe
as it floats in your conscience.

To the time that we were together;
I long to hold you close
tonight.

In your deepest dreams,
I want to be the flower in your hair, the shining sun.
To the coldest evenings,
the fire.
Of marshmallows that melt into gooey goodness,
I burnt my tongue a few times
on the toasting fork;
But the sweet soothed the pain away.

You glance at my hands as they lay in my lap,
folded.
They are quite useless when you want to express the truest feelings.
A picture speaking a thousand words is worthless
if it cannot speak
your mind.
Lingering on the lengthy twilight,
its tail brushes past my cheek as it settles for the night.

The food in my plate is only to be served once,
eaten once;
The taste lingers
long after I swallow.

Like a faint dab of perfume through your sparkling strands of wet,
dark hair.

Closed eyes,
open senses.
I can see you still.

A song I know too well,
yet if I were to sing it;
I can't.

I won't either.

The parting words will be
remembered forever.
Say it carefully;
hold your breath
and let it go in our arms.

As you move away slightly,
I feel you going.

I said not a word of what
I'd written for you;
hoping you'd find that memoir
written in hiding,
left openly hidden in your hands.

You'd see a different me.
You'll see a different me now too.

I never said a word more, a word less.
I said enough to fill you with hope;
But now....
I'll talk the night away,
only to keep you here
a little longer.