Crunching on Cartilage

Mother nature is unpredictable, period. Green.

It was hard to grow in a hostile environment

but mother made me.

Green.

Men

are made of monster parts

and if, as boys, they are not severed then

they will grow against our counterparts.

As a girl, I looked up to my mother

with my father's eyes. She took

care of me. He took

her for granted.

Granted my father was a bush doctor -

he had no patience.

His treetment was flawed. Poison. Green

Red.

The first time I bled I was eight - just ate

my fill for dinner. I never liked greens.

I'd spit my peas into my palms and hide them in my pockets -

shook,

as daddy's arm rockets

into mother's jaw.

Mother spit a tooth out on the dinner table. Red.

I was eight - just ate

my fill for dinner now coming to terms with red -

a stressful period.

At eight I learnt that guilt was green

cause maybe if I ate my peas

I'd have the strength

to stand up

or help.

But green was unpredictable.

And in the absence of help, one's self

goes green

to save their environment.

At eight, I saw my mother for the first time

through my own eyes;

for who she really was.

A force.

At eight I learnt the importance of

family sustainability. Green

At eight I had a period of reckoning.

Red. Full stop.