failing asleep at the holiday wheel

another holiday loomed ahead like a sharp curve     she slammed on brakes   tried to avoid the inevitable  skid  into the  november  downturn…  as every muscle  poised above the small square pedal of her heart  seized       she sat  in seasonal    darkness   knowing that the brakes of this would fail   leaving her  sad and  heavy with repeated questions … 

she awaited the pre-destined outcome      weakened by the weight of it   unable to gain control   of it   again     she weaved across the surface of  slick roadsides         wet with the rain of an evening’s soft tears  she tried again      and failed      to brace herself  with all that  she     had         for the inevitable crash       and burn         as all attempts to bring a  painful   repetative collision   to a halt    failed        again ….. 

warning lights blinked    their soft yellow  in the distance   she  passed   each roadsign   squinted with blurred vision  and tried again      to  spell out      the words    of  an unfamiliar language   still not understood…she  knew  these warning  signs   even as the familiar blindness took hold     the pierce  hit its mark, taking her breath away     taking logic with it      she leaned into each sharp curve    of yearning    felt the rip  and tear  into flesh and muscle as her   heartstrings  were pulled away  and she gasped again       searching for her lost breath …      

why is this she asked    the question heavy  on her lips   the need for her family to define itself   tore into her…      what is the roadmap that drew them to opposite distances at times when others    craved      and planned together for this time of love and tradition?     what diagramed design  caught in the  spidery glare   of shattered  glass     left them unable to see   what  brought such dissonance       how did dread    and disdain    replace the joy that threads families together on these, oddly defined holidays… 

how did her hands fail to hold them, these daughters       strangers to each other     estranged in the art of sisterhood       why did their vision   of tradition      blur so intensely   reflecting in the headlights of    what is  family       what left them  impaled and  molded by force   assaulted by guilt and expectation       as  year after year   they twisted in    the steel of each other   bent and damaged   frames flying in such opposite direction….as if they were all strangers

unimagineable sadness   struck  hitting hard as she watched and explored how others  walked these holiday  roads year after year      the importance   of  holidays  spent together  with joy and love   is the routine of most…there is no joke in this   no trained guilt    no saying and doing what they think  is expected   just the simplicity of    family laughing and sharing in tradition         still, she looked    around        as others     turned to the   homes of their families   with the joy and    expectation     of how it has always been        drawn to the spark of warm fires burning      their  hunger, sated     they filled    their bellies and hearts   showing the strength  and mark   of their love   in weight and measure  of time spent   a meal prepared          laughter   love   

without  dignity     and ashamed of   the annual inability to explain the roots     or history  of  her place at these tables    or of its importance to those she loved          she instead pondered the discord of stubborn sisters     how     enemy lines drawn in invisible sands from teen years became their only known  tradition …        and her unwelcoming      of one   sat strong on her shoulders      evidenced by the stubborness and inability to forgive as passed down through bloodline   too     the judgment of a mother unable to forget the vision of bruises and tears on a daughter’s face, unforgotten…a violence, unforgiven

where is my family’s tradition     she wept       why  do we sit as strangers    at the tables of others…           those who crave tradition and family remember past thoughts      they recall a time  of  pre-motherhood     musing     as bellies rounded with       new life   growing inside    they were certain    that the reasons of holiday and tradition would always be held in regard with great love      and togetherness…and certain of it     they smiled         anxious for the days to come   certain too, in the knowing that these would be the times     that would bring their own small, new families together     no one alone     or lonely      all safe         and happy  in the time together   and in this dream   they would  share one heart                 a true          holiday

About lindalou5150

as exercise or exorcism, i write...for the eyes of others, for my eyes and heart only, for the love and the rage, i release the gamut of tell the truth and say what's often thought but not written...
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1 Response to failing asleep at the holiday wheel

  1. MandT says:

    ‘As if they all were strangers’
    Even they
    Beyond the family,
    To those of the Daily ferment
    With fervent betrayal
    In the guise of admiration
    And the hungry gleaning
    Of a greater,
    Genuine talent.

    Among the altars, crucifixes,
    Bunnies, Santa’s, mangers
    The show goes on—
    Down south,
    Down there,
    Where home once was,

    Where the meaty stuff
    Of poets has passed on
    To the packaged,
    Cleverly wrapped,
    Bourgeois imagining
    Of hard times,
    And what the street must be like.

    Except for those,
    Who moved North
    To the North Beach
    The stunning,
    Beautiful heart
    Of the remembering wahini
    Writes on.

    Happy Thanksgiving! xxxooo Mandt & Boster

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