about my mother

my mother was a metaphor.

always acting out,

what I was eventually to deduce.

her childhood, as she interpreted it, 

her parent's conditioning upon her,

and her basic daily fears, 

as hidden her motivations escorting.

there was nothing real,

as in the moment.

every interaction had script and motive.

I was planned 

as an extension of the story of her selfdom.

she always had a working model in mind.

most of her scripts were resoundingly boring.

what was sincere was mostly kept in deep privacy.

I was managed, as caring could provide.

she had many one-liners verbalized.

but by repetition, 

they eventually died coming out of her mouth.

the best gift I could have given her,

was to not be born.

after that premise disappeared,

it was negotiation about the oddity of being.

luckily by the time I was five, I gave up,

and proof read the script before responding.

my lines were all she had to go on.

lightness of beings does not overwhelm 

her endless shadows of fear.

oh, she meant well,

given the invasion of her otherwise life.

behaviors were delivered as appropriate

but otherwise void of deeper insight.

many years later in my life,

I discovered that she really, sincerely, 

had no clue.

after being gone for decades,

for her own sanity, 

she had declared to others, 

that I had died.

it was shocking when I reappeared.

and then, for her to say,

so tell me about yourself,

and what you have done with your life?

can you image that being said to you?

what to say in words

that would somewhat meaningful to her.

after all, it was revealed relatively early on,

that they wanted a girl after two older boys.

but then to amend that premise,

that, at least, I would have become a priest.

both insanely happen to be true

but not even remotely in the vain 

she had in mind.

for I was truly blessed 

by her native insularity ongoing presented.

didn't realize its essential worth

until much later in my life going forward.

being a third child-orphan was destiny's calling.

self reliance and inner dialogue became my standard fare.

basically she should have been a nun this time around.

she had such strong pullings in that direction.

yet life just took her by the circumstance

and compelled her into marriage, maybe,

but certainly motherhood and its boundaries.

think of it this way,

I was not a reasonable child.

I was ridiculously phrenic, quick mind,

with boundless energy to use.

I had a mouth and used it. 

I was principled in my stances

and eventually didn't mind 

the physical punishments sent my way.

it was all worth it, for the way I felt.

early on, I adored my older brothers.

I did say, early on.

those days came and went.

they were eleven and six years my senior.

we all lived in quite different worlds.

my mom was central but also very limited.

she had tendencies to be a poor-mouther. 

and I learned from the rest of the family, early on 

how every one of us ignored her.

she had sainthood in the back of her mind.

she was blessed unto herself.

I quite privately,

remember her that way . . .