Witchful Thinking

My mother talks and talks. I fear she may

Be right. What if my sister is indeed a w***e? Flaunting

Her thickness among

Indians in the Panamanian jungle,

Bad people blinding her

to the obvious warnings-dead dogs

And bleeding cows, half-eaten horses stuck in that muddy terrain,

Land unfit for bearing any good fruit. My sister

Lived on plantains and dirty water.

My sister lived on short visits and drinks with men who made

Her laugh. She lived on longing for     connection.

My mother talks and talks. I fear she may

Be right. What if I am unambitious? Prone to weight gain and

Unable to progress?

My messy room-a reflection of an unstable mind,

terrified     and childish.

She talks and talks. What if she is right? That she has no purpose here?

Her icy grey eyes searching for affection    from us all.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i am quite taken with this write. A mother voicing opinions that are so negative, but really taking out her own insecurities (thinking of herself as a mother ignored with no purpose) on her daughters.
Parents often want to live through their children, and when those children make decisions opposite to what the parents envision, there is much disappointment.

but i think the idea here is that we really have to live our own lives...not the parents'.
a really intricate piece of strong philosophy.

j.