3.9.16

“gray matter swirls inside solid vase of my head
detecting, prying, trying
to analyze
somber sounds & moving snapshots of sacred sunday
when she
my scooby doo co-spectator
screams with seriousness from second story of shelter
sickening taste of my name
smacks my small ears
steals my eyes from screen of silly shows
sends shocking signals to my shins
soars my body up flights of steps

my eyes taste and hear bitterness
green and purple cloth with flower design grows
over her lower half
bra exposed, hand clutching
brain
screaming
”get your dad”
Manang’s appearance explodes words throughout house
Pops feet pat louder up the stairs, as he pants
”go downstairs”

next few moments
static snapshots
unclear moments when time disappears
like Manang’s bunny she finds in black plastic container apartment for no longer necessary
how bunny travels there
unknown
the result
our only sight
the story goes

blond hair, blue top man
wearing black shoes he does not remove
enters our “remove your shoes home” saying
”we got you Carmen”
Carmen
early riser, seamstress of dresses
morning master of ‘O Christmas Tree
Grandma
not this womxn, but one up on the same family tree
no longer present, physically not here
unforgiving foreshadowing

for next 15 days and even today
3rd grade me with gel-shaped like triangle hair
does not have language to investigate why
greater spirit snatches her from us
instead
indigestible words from aunts and uncles holding
holy beads with cross
fill my thinking vestibule that still vomits back
hail holy queen, mother of mercy...
mercy
today i pray for end of flow of these inedible tones
disguising death like innocuous contriving character
the villain on Scooby Doo
but got away with it, us meddling kids do nothing

only answer my body receives
a ring of the doorbell every night
friends fillet food for family
neighborly nutrition
negative nourishment; not what my mind hungers for

i want words, squiggles, anything to understand
but how do you tell an 8 year old, your mother is dead
you don’t
nothing is better, they thought
marinate me with hushes and prayers
but causes me to feel nothing: the worst kind of pain
no salty overflow of the 2 dams of my head
when i taste her name
i don’t understand why anxiety and sadness
violent intentions
only visit me when i hear a past Boo’s name, not hers

i know i hold depression’s hand
but they hold me with surprised tenderness
despite no answers from loved ones
depression and i create
drawings, pictures, poems
my own understanding
not bad for a non meddling kid
”

scooby doo. where are you?
i'm so tired. i crashed after class today. self-care days are so vital for survival. 
this was one of the hardest poems to write and i wrote most of it in the morning today. 
there's still bits and pieces that need to be flushed out. there's a whole other poem waiting to be written. the one where we're at the hospital.  the one where there's....
it's little too much for me to write. one of these days i will.

i need to apply for jobs~