Then Speak

A wall of fog

Creeps over me

Slowly obliterating

My sense of

Reality

Of what is being

Talked about

Between you and the

Other

 

Am I on the

Outside

The opposite

Side

Unseen

My any word

Silenced

 

Memories come rushing

Back

I am a child

Again

To be seen

But not heard

As the saying goes

Words not my

Own

Whirling over my

Head

Land on me

At Grandmother’s

Every Sunday dinner

Table

 

My hair     my hair

I’d sit mute

Listen to them talk

What to do with

My hair

 

But now

Am not that

Child

I am a grown

Woman

Who blamed you

For my need to be

Included

Turned the wall of

Fog

Into ice

Then blamed myself

Trying to melt the

Ice

That lingered in my

Heart

 

Sitting in silence

I say to myself

 

Grow up

Recognize     accept

If you feel left

Out

You put yourself

There

All you have to do is

Speak

Find a pause

An intake of a

Breath

 

Then     speak

 

the poet & her father, 1939

2 thoughts on “Then Speak

  • January 11, 2022 at 4:00 am
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    Mom and I worked on this poem. I wanted her to dig deeper than the draft #1 she originally handed me; I wanted to see what could be discovered, where her feelings of sitting on the outside “mute” originated. I am so moved by her willingness to take a suggestion, a prompt and go for it. I am surprised, and relieved that at 89 a woman as “evolved” as my mother can still confront internal blocks to self-awareness, forgiveness, love. A reminder that “the work” never ends. –Dina

    Reply
  • January 11, 2022 at 3:31 pm
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    Beautiful. LOVE the photo as well.

    Reply

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