Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “woman”

Michelle

Once, when you were a tiny infant
asleep on a pillow on my lap,
a spider wandered too close and I brushed it away.
I remember wishing I could always be there
to brush aside anything that might cause you harm.
You were young then and so was I.

But you grew and were not the coddling kind.
A rebel with a sense of humour,
a dreamer with a streak of realism,
as stubborn as the knots in your hair that we both
cried over as I wielded the brush.
I remember hoping life would not throw you anything
you couldn’t handle.
You were older then and so was I.

As a woman, you discovered the world I’d been living in
and the revelation brought us closer together.
Promoted to mother, you began to see things
through the same lens.
And you shone. And you shine.
And I know that no brushing aside of life’s troubles
could have taught you how to be who you are now.
This you learned on your own.
We are older now, and perhaps a little wiser.

Happy birthday, darling daughter.

#275

A Woman, Her Mirror, and The Space In Between

I
The mirror always tells me lies,
shows a backwards world.
Shows things farther away than they really are.
I once had a mirror that showed me ridges
across my face
that rippled when I moved.
What a lie.
 
II
I never promised perfection,
only my truth, my vision
of how you reflect
in me.
You search for a girl who had
your eyes long ago.
She is farther away.
She has moved on.
 
III
Back and forth you travel.
Waves and particles through me, in spite of me,
an endless conversation circling,
circling. I grow tired.
Turn off the light, perhaps
you’ll agree on something
tomorrow.

 

#27

Post Navigation