Name

This poem is about a stranger I "knew" at the gym, and the story I think she never told.

I asked her what her name was today, and she looked at me…lost like a ship at sea…

as if her own name were as foreign to her as puberty is to a preteen.

I looked into her eyes: light, like a lamb’s coat before the wolf comes.

And she stood there, adversely awaiting the aggressive hand that would lead her away…

To a marvelous mirage of everything she never got under the tree on Christmas morning:

Noticed.

She just wanted to be noticed.

Her tight clothes clung to her curves,

like the warming welcome of the embrace she never had.

The revealing rags hugged her and gave her the long forgotten feeling of love.

We stood in an awkward silence,

as the quiet caught in the air like a fish on a hook.

And at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her abused body

like a mamma bear might hold her cub.

I see you, I see you…

I’d whisper in her ear,

like the wind whispers to the trees.

I would turn my love into a soup

until it seeped into her solemn soul and fed her until she was full…

full of life and love, and a light that she could turn on

every time she found herself alone in the dark…

forgotten by all of the men that would torture her tattered youth and convince her

that the only times she mattered

was on her back and silent.

I stood there, still awaiting her answer,

as I pictured her at 7 years old again:

daddy, mommy, please notice me…

but no one ever did.

And I’d tell her

Child, you are more than that, my darling you deserve the world…

And together we would walk into our Wonderland

where nothing ever made sense anyways.

I’d spoil her silly with jokes

and listen for that laugh that would set us both free.

But years have passed

and her 7 year old smile has become a 23 year old mask of

mascara and memories.

Remembering all of the times that she never mattered…

all of the times that she was more translucent than the windows

that reflected a little girl who only wanted to be loved.

I love you, I love you!

I would shout to her, as the thunder shouts to the sky.

“What is your name?”

I ask her again…

In hopes that one day

she might remember.

 

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

Monica Garcia,
"Name" Yes we are known by our names. Your acquaintance from the gym says more than she may realize with her expression and gaze. I see that you read those things. We say so much with just silence. "I looked into her eyes' light like a lamb's coat before a wolf comes." This line reveals so much. I am impressed that she may be affirmed if she will allow it. I do hope that you were able to get to know her a little. Some people are very slow to trust...................Blessings to you Kathy

[Tom]

To reach out and make a connection which is keenly reciprocated is truly touching and all embracing!

Splendidly soul searching poetry M.

[Monica Garcia]

I was hoping someone would find this one. ;) Thanks for reading.