1-8-08mother

I never thought I would miss the hardship of my childhood. What is missing is who lived through every break down to these remains. If I were given a birdcage of bones to hold me up, my heart would swing within, a red bird. I could watch from within, entertained by the dangers outside of my cage. I would see for the first time how shadows bow to the light. I wish for a cage to give me freedom to look at the world as if I weren't in it. My mother was a cage before I can remember. I only felt I had been taken from a place she had forgotten. A place in her eyes where I'd be trapped, a place in her joy that my name could fit into. Being called for nothing, hearing desire in her voice for anything at all, knowing she did love silly things, so she must love me called in different words for things she loved.