There are days my skin matches that of a late twilight,
Where clouds blotch purple and blue across a lighter field.
On those days, I put on a long sleeve shirt
And pin on a smile.
I get that from my mom.
There are days that are wrecked by suicide bombers
Engulfed in their own rage,
And I make excuses for them,
Dodging the bullets aimed at the helpless.
I walk outside with a smile,
I get that from my mom.
I have seen abandoned buildings
With flowers that grow between their cracks.
But when those buildings collapse,
No one knows there was ever a flower
Blooming there to begin with.
He is your broken building, collapsing
You are a deep rooted flower,
Always leaning towards light
Unable to see
The rotting corpse of a building
Your roots are planted in.
You walk outside with a smile,
You taught me how to walk outside with a smile,
Lean up towards light,
Pretending that
Cracks
Don’t exist
Unless to support
Our very existence.
I got that from you, mom.
I learned I’m attracted to broken buildings
Because I watched my mother plant a garden in one.
I make homes of haunted houses
Blooming in cracks
No one bothered to maintain,
I forgive walls that collapse in on me,
Remove my own bones to patch broken foundations,
I walk outside with a smile
Hoping the exterior doesn’t appear as broken,
That I don’t appear as broken,
Just like my mother
Never appeared as broken
As I knew she was.
Oh mother, I know you didn’t mean for me to see it.
But now, the only beauty I see is in a fixer-upper.
You’ve taught me how to drain myself into
Things that don’t deserve fixing,
To put on a long sleeve shirt after the nights that burn,
To make excuses for him,
To walk outside with a smile
And pretend I am blooming in a garden
When he is merely a cemetery.
I realize now you are more than a deep rooted flower.
You are blindly trapped inside
Only remembering the days when the sun
Graced your petals
But always forgetting the months
When his walls blocked the light.
But you’ve been teaching me, secretly,
How to save myself
Every day that you ONLY let me see the sun
And never let my roots grab hold
In between cracks.
I am rolling up my sleeves,
I am learning to read between the lines
Of everything I thought I got from you, mom.
About the Creator
Kara G.
23-year-old teacher in Baltimore.
I write about my life in stories and poems.
@poetryandsunflowers
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