The Stranger

This has been a difficult few weeks. I’ve watched my mother become a woman I don’t recognize. She’s always been so strong, so resilient, and her body is turning on her and there’s no defense strong enough to fight back. So, we’ve entered a period of adjustment. We must learn new ways of being mother and daughter. And honestly, I have struggled to write anything. I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything. And then tonight at the hospital, I glimpsed that other side of my mother. And the words, they just came. It’s an understatement to say love and appreciate your loved ones while you have them because one day, you won’t. Every lucid moment with her is a moment of preciousness. Every time I touch her warm skin or kiss her cheek, I hope she realizes how much she is valued. I love her so very much and it’s so hard to see her this way.

i hesitantly follow her
to places of total darkness,
afraid i will lose sight of
her, afraid i will get lost
too. in this new darkness
there is no time to wait for
my eyes to adjust, it happens
all so quickly. shapes
obscured by memories, lost in
a jumble of words marred by
confusion. she is no longer
my mother. she is a stranger.
i do not know her & i do not
want to know her. i
search for her in old photographs,
in eyes, frozen in time, i search
for clues—when did she first
start to leave me? where
can i find the missing pieces
of her? photos strewn across
my floor like land mines,
my life now a foreign land.
i trip & fall constantly. and
when i rise, always i
am bruised. this woman
does not belong to me.
she is a stranger. she is
not my mother. how did
i manage to misplace
someone who never bothered
to leave me?

peace & love,

P.S. hold your loved ones tighter. love a little harder. because one day this will all be a memory.



About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link:
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2 Responses to The Stranger

  1. Jerri Dent says:

    This is beautiful and true our mothers have always taked care of us protected us from harm and loved us dearly now we must take care of them to the fullest in the best of our ability.

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