I thought today's writing would be about science v shamanism and the constant battle the two engage over the landscape of my heart. It still may. One never knows.
But I realized earlier in the week that today April 22, 2011 aka Earth Day would also have been my Dad's 90th birthday. There has usually been a piece of writing on this day in his honor. I always thought that weird until I met Eve at WWfaC who introduced me to the Jewish practices of Sitting Shivah and Yahrtzeit as a way to commemorate the dead. Shivah is the ritual for grief at the time of the death and Yahrtzeit is a way to remember the dead on their death date. She writes to commemorate her parents during their Yahrtzeit every year. That made me feel less crazy, knowing that someone else had resolved their grief in a similar fashion. I prefer to remember that he lived rather than to remember his death.
My Da never would have made it this long. I know that. His entire family was dead before 70, genetics I hope not to have inherited. Although I'm not sure about the 90+ from the other side either if it means living with an unhealthy body or mind. But I digress......
Mirror gazing I seem all her and none of you
Fingers following cheekbones, chin, brows
A face that distant relatives mistake for hers
A rounding middle-aged middle, unmistakably her
My cathedral of books - her story whore legacy
The blueprint for bad cholesterol an unreturnable gift
Even my smile bears the same cursed crossing teeth
I can't find one visible trait that marks me as your child.
My brothers full to bursting with your genes
Pictures of them overlapping you at every age
It angers me today to look so like this parent
and not more like the one who better loved me
Maybe that is why I gaze so seldom in the mirror
Why I never truly look
That part of me that is like you
That part not easily seen
Contained within her prison still.
The war of words and frost
that lit the battleground between you
Silent out there these last twenty five years
Rages on inside me still
No quarter asked.
None given
As this is a deeply personal kinda day and writing, please refrain from leaving comments. Just for today. Please don't feel sorry for me or over interpret the words. It's writing folks. My parents both loved me in their own fucked up ways
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