Ola Lee Richardson (Mother Pig) as a teen w/ the nephew she helped to raise, Rubble.
Sometimes, I am paralyzed by the past pain of my family.
It’s as if what touched them touches me.
It’s as if who they couldn’t forgive,
I came out of the womb detesting.
It’s as if their mind’s tears flowed through the years only
To solidify in my DNA.
No words were needed when I was young;
for my being
Already knew the story.
Their fear was my fear.
Their fear is my fear.
But will it be her fear?
Will it creep up the back of her neck on its way
To grab hold of her every thought?
Will it awake her at 3AM with its distressed whispers?
Will it punch her in the gut during small talk?
No.
I mean….it doesn’t have to?
It doesn’t have to.
Because I’m going to own it before it owns me.
I’m going to own it so that it does not own her.
I own their fear.
I own it at as a part of me,
I embrace the past pains of my family.
I don’t resist, as so it does not persist.
I own it.
I dissect it.
And there, as I sift through the pile of its pieces and parts,
I discover a numbing sadness
A RAGING ANGER
And then a slow….shy (at times confused) gratitude.
Not gratitude for past pains, but for this present chance
To move differently with its residual fear;
For any step toward my healing now,
Moves she and they toward healing forever.
I was young, my 2nd Mom/late Aunt Nancy w/ my daughter,
then my parents, grandparents and we three at our daughter’s christening (bc we crAzy methodist baptize our babies ). 😛
When the virus won’t let us go out, we got to go IN and this is what I am finding within during this ‘collective retreat’ (as coined by my pal, Jamal Jivanjee ).
What sort of deep work are you doing during the quarantine?
What is being revealed to you?
What questions are coming up now that things have really slowed down?