Always Wanted To Wear Your Shoes - Poem by AliciaPilar Mogollon
o sister o sister
my beautiful and powerful big sister;
i wish i knew you like i once did
o sister o sister
my wise and worldly big sister;
i wish i knew the remedy for what has rent itself between us
a thousand hateful things i've said to you;
wish i knew how to soften those words
I don't know what you mean by formal, not sure how to be formal
I miss you
and dare I say you were right in many ways
are there amends for my intolerance of your menopause
which is when know that things began to really fall apart
and now, as i swallow black cohosh capsules
and find myself yet again in a back against the wall situation;
i'm wishing i'd ever learned to do things like you
learned to make the best of things,
find and develop my own creative spark
& now there is no you to run to
and i've yet again made choices without a backup plan.
this seems to have become the pattern of my life
never really finishing anything
testing the waters here and there
often trying to live up to you
there were times when i wished u were my mother
and even felt u were
and now as tears begin to well
i can't help wanting to reverse the clock
though I'm I'd just react the same way
so many little moments come flooding in
I sat,8ish months pregnant, at my midwife visit
staring at words on a memo she'd held in her hand
sister called, requests that we urge mother to consider adoption,
doesn't think she can handle motherhood
or is ready for mother hood
I don't remember the exact words.
I numbly said no, I didn't want adoption info
feeling very sad
feeling somehow rejected
and so it seems I couldn't handle motherhood
one of those midwives asked me, later, on my 6 week visit
'Are you starting to adjust to motherhood? '
F*** no! I don't know what that means.
but i said neither, wanly exhaustedly said, yes.
no further questions.
And 12 years later, I've still not adjusted
and that doesn't mean I am not madly in love with my son.
But I know you know that
My heart feels so lost and yet there are moments
when I feel more powerful than I ever have.
I still keep feeling like I'm struggling to live up to you
still see your face when someone speaks of heroes
though I despise the word – and perhaps i've lived the reason why
I see other faces but yours the brightest
if not of late only because of my bitter anger
my self torturing sense of betrayal
just my feelings - not necessarily truth
Im sorry that I always wanted to be you
so much maybe that I even wanted to stamp you out.
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