Blaming My Mother

Blaming My Mother

Blaming my mother looks like nights that know resentment biblically,

And days that know nothing of sun.

Blaming my mother looks like years without PTA  meetings,

Looks like changing my reflection in the mirror,

                                 Looks like a rabid dog gnawing at my one vital organ.

Blaming my mother looks like missed shows,

Missed bonding opportunities;

Missed nights of secret sharing,

Missed spa days,

Too many misses, but I list them all in bed at night

Blaming my mother looks like words that can’t be retracted;

Like a hole in the bottom of a bag carrying too much water.

Blaming my mother is like running to my father.

It’s addiction to identifying as victim and not daughter.

Blaming my mother looks like epiphany.

Looks like working lights and running water

Looks like nothing being free

Looks like responsibility strapped to her back with a ticking bomb on the side.

My mother, the carrier.

My mouth, the ticking bomb.

I look at her bruised knuckles,

Observe nights where her feet dragged her from thankless  work to a thankless  home

Blaming my mother looks like refusing to read between lines.

Blaming my mother is forgetting she had a mother.

A mother who had a mother, who had a mother, who had a mother.

Motherhood is a used notebook;

It’s had many owners,

And too many opinions of  the right street to walk down.

There is no way to study what has been written;

Motherhood is a try.

A try for everything that was not given to my mother from her mother.

Blaming my mother looks like self reflection.

Attempting to find myself  among her features on my face.

On my heart.

Blaming my mother looks like a clenched fist.

Holding on to nothing in particular but refusing to stretch the fingers.

Blaming my mother is habit,

Blaming my mother is blinding.

Blaming my mother happened when I forgot my heart.

Forgot my mother was once a child,

Forgot her experiences formed her,

Forgot that in turn our experiences together formed me.

After all the blaming my blind heart could give,

My mother still never blamed me back.