For the Motherless Child

But who celebrates the
Motherless child?
Who remembers the
Grieving sibling
Whose life was missing
Love and comfort
Or the children
Riddled with the loss
Of she who bore them?

Who loves the
Worn down souls
Unable to open
Computer tops
For fear of seeing
Everyone else’s joy
As they
Sit alone.

We are conditioned with
Holidays to
Get the heart wishing,
Fake gatherings where
Children smile for mom
Quiet about the harm
Not showing the scars
Locked in robotic charm,
The alcohol bottle,
The silence, as not to
Make the cages rattle.

Every day is Mother’s Day,
For the motherless, a
Reminder shoved in their face
With flowers torn from stems,
No fond stories to tell
About childhood memories,
Just thoughts of her hell,

Or wishing she was here
To share in the recall
Of the kids who had it all,
But lost her slowly
Until all that’s left
Is a headstone
And lonely.

And so I lift my eyes
To the motherless child;
Open my arms
Let me hold you a while.
Together, see, I understand.
I know the pain.

We will walk in the trees and
I’ll softly wipe any tears;
Hold you to my chest to
Let you seep out the loneliness.

You don’t have to be happy
If it’s not how you feel.
You have the right
To be vulnerable and real.

To you, motherless child, I
I sent respite. So
Rest a while and
If you find strength to smile
I will return it with twinkling eyes.

V.K

art by Vennie Kocsis with influence from Jill Greenberg’s crying children series.

On the Merry Go ‘Round

I’ve felt so much upheaval in the beginning of this year. the last month has been an up and down battle of struggles and survival. Things have shifted and changed multiple times. I’ve been forced in positions to face more parts of myself and accept the reality of others. My process feels unsure at times. I take it day by day.

Unexpected moments happen. I spent last week head deep into finishing an art piece. I enjoyed some moments of rare sunshine. I am working on writing my sequel. I’m in my own space right now. Life is twirling. I’m in the middle of a move. I have moments of feeling overwhelmed. I have moments of “freak out my life is going to explode in one big agoraphobic poof”.

Today, a family member ended up in the hospital for the next few weeks. Today has been a day of realizations of where my personal focus should be. Today my support system shifted and redirected unexpectedly.

There isn’t a possibility for us to predict life or what will happen. After today, I have taken one step further into myself. I am learning more and more to stand in acceptance of what is and to give love where I can while holding to my own boundaries.

I will always be a work in progress. Every loss becomes a lesson and a tighter boundary on my life. To be truly understood; to find authentic empathy and intelligent, open minds in this world has become a rare gem for me. I must spend my time cherishing what I have felt I was losing.

The moment I cease sharing my life, my journey, my knowledge, and the moment I cease learning and becoming more than I am today, is the moment I take my last breath.

All Of This Is Just a Hologram

Endings become beginnings sometimes, and frankly, it doesn’t always feel good. No. It feels like being a valuable crystal ball, dropped and shattered, then listening to the one who drops me saying,

“Ah. It’s just stuff.”

Yanno what?

My heart isn’t monetary. I’m not just stuff.

“Well, I paid you back.” does not erase the abandonment, because my emotional well being doesn’t compute out as dollar bills. I’m not a soul stripper. Lines on an accounting spreadsheet do not equate to heartbeats.

You have thrust me back into the wake of my mother’s mind control, choosing me for rescue when you needed me, then throwing me away to return back to your abusive Handler. I am sitting here in the dining room of the tabernacle, again, and you are my robotic mother, a puppet choosing to ignore me because that is God’s will.

You find a million reasons to make villians out of anyone who reminds you of what you should face in yourself. You’ve done the same as Mama did, without a care of your aftermath. What a selfish and self-righteous act, but as I always do; I bounce back.

There’s a pattern in this process of disregard, greed and apathy. It manifests as suffering; the wicked dying slow deaths of cancer and pain. Some call it karma. I say it’s self manifestation.

I am ignored just like Mama chose to do to me, justified inside because I am sin and everything that makes the world bad, harlot and whore, tainted child not good enough for the righteous ones standing on the pedestal of hypocritical judgment.

Yet, still I win, because sister, I am free, and as much as I struggle; as often as I stumble, I am my own now. I answer to no man or woman. I am free to be who I want to be. I am not bound to any one else’s opinion of me. And yes, for me, THAT, is ultimate freedom.

I never belonged to a group, as lonely as it got at times. It just never felt right to be inside of one. I’ve become at peace with it now; being the worst of the bunch; not fitting into the image of your pinned down scarves hiding the beauty you cant see in yourself, and the denial that your existence is sub-human to his.

You chose the cult of an isolated marriage riddled with religious gossip, drama, angst and pain. It must all feel familiar. I used to understand. Manipulation began at seven. Pain numbed by eight and the rest just a silent hoping that the truth doesn’t have to exist. That’s how you’ve always handled it.

I grew up in handkerchiefs and bonnets hiding my baby face from long hours working in sun drenched fields. I need my hair to flow free and not let my mistakes own me. We will always be Celie and Nettie, but this time, Nettie walks away on her own, because finery becomes more important than family. And Celie continues her rising because if there’s one thing I know, its thriving inside the layers of surviving.

I will not hide myself away; not like you. I am not worthless. I cannot be bought, and that makes me priceless. We are the remnants of what was done to us, and this time, I won’t deny the depth of the loss you have created. I will ride it to the moon, become cloud and mist because all of this is just a hologram.

Streams Of Consciousness | 6.25.15

I am here weightless. Ear tuned to every sound. The fireworks are starting. A week filled with the explosions of war. I despise the celebration of generations who’ve been traumatized by genocide. Headphones. I’m trying to stabilize.

Can I float off away from this place yet? Work to do, but goddamn, I’m tired. Inside. Down in the caves where the seaweed waves in water. She, there, that siren; she is tired inside her liquid soul.

Outside, my body pushes. My face smiles, forced because maybe if I push at it fiercely it turns into the real real. The sounds of fans whirring above me. It’s heated evenings with the shades pulled up to catch the breezes.

Life moves on. Can’t do shit to change that except to feel it all. Face forward. Eyes on the prize, girl, eyes on the prize. Actualize. My destiny has arrived.

Which looks like….

A settled sunset in a camp chair around a beach bonfire,

A triumphant glow in the eyes of a child who has escaped the pain and healed,

A human holding accountability softly in their palms saying, “I fucked this up. I deserve to carry this, not you.”

An acceptance,
A sag of the shoulders and
A rest before the next climb.

They say don’t expect too much from people. It gives way to disappointment. I say that goes along with all the other ways a victim is left to carry the blame. No. The shame belongs solely to the asshole who throws away lives without a care. Don’t blame us.

Here is YOUR Diagnoses:

Apathy, Chronic
Envy, Unresolved
Greed, Chronic Satiation, Level OCD
Selfishness, Harmful Ideation

Everything with you motherfuckers is about money. It temporarily numbs the pain like drugs, and when that plug is pulled, what’s left but the abscess to drain endless,

Your chosen mental madness,
Your fucking sadness,
The voices in your head
Telling you that you ain’t shit;
I know all about it.
I used to be a pro
At telling myself no,
Instead of attending
To my precious soul.

Thinking about it makes my stomach sick. I’d rather live a thousand lives of loneliness than ever give in to anyone again.

I say yes to this right here; the silence; the peace; the ability to freely be me. And fuck the gurus and the controllers, the betrayals and the disloyal. It’s a journey of suffering embraced like a blanket and the shit ain’t mine this time. I get to leave it all behind.

So, I am weightless on this bed. Thinking about communion style wafers of white chocolate and laughter that fled at the sight of action and accountability, because standing on your own two feet ain’t never been a strength when you care more about Vera Wang than your own ability to become better and change.

Lying and manipulation is the crutch of your existence,

And me? I’m just weightless. I’m just feeling, dealing and healing. Because that’s what I do. Live my truth. Even if the self hating critics keep the rest of you in prison, I have escaped to never, ever return to that gate even if it grows flowers;

Unless I have a mallet
To knock down the malice.

Streams Of Consciousness | 6.18.15

Your call tonight left me hollow / my chest is under bricks / breath heavy / I feel you separating / and I touched you for a time / like when I was a child / I admired you / now I lose you / again / you’re going back to them / back to the smothering caverns / so familiar / fear of the unknown / is greater / than the pain you’ve called home / so you choose / the lesser of the two / I am riddled with the loss of you / he will isolate your mind again / make the rest of us out to be villains / years will pass / and there will be the memories / of the few months we / laughed and planned / two girls once more / like before / we have always been / a family torn / can I hold this space / my arms are weary / and I am leery of losing / the strands of this heart / are violin strings / shorn from themselves / my skin sleeps but / the lump in my throat / says weep, girl, weep / this sadness runs so deep / I am a million pieces / each trying to figure it out / the turned down mouth / a smile lost / yet all is flat / no real tears yet / will they come? / maybe it’s time I go back / reclaim the coldness / so I don’t have to hold this / next time it will be worse / the hurt / it will beat you / until your knees shake / and you said you were done / with heartache / I wonder how much more / you’ll take / if you’ll outlive / the emotional rape / but I got a journey / I have to take / and I can’t stay, sweet sister / I can’t stay / holding space I gave / and still I love / still I yearn / as the tides turn / becoming the ash we burned / in the hopes that your loneliness / wouldn’t become excuses / and I must tarry on / with my mission / but first I must try / to cry / so the heaviness / will turn light / replaced by acceptance / but first / I gotta feel this