you are no longer just
a single mother struggling for
two beautiful boys,
left alone on the high plains.
you are no longer the
desperate fear trapped
in a closet, his drunken body
blocking your escape.
you are not the confused
little girl in the barn,
sitting on his lap with
his hands groping for an excuse.
you are not just the abandoned sister,
the capable but lonely daughter,
the destroyer of social structures,
the lonely middle child,
the temptress and strumpet,
the solitary savior of broken men
always with the best of intentions.
you try to recall the moment when these
memories became soft and muted,
their tenderness nearly unbearable
like when the sun rose over the northern
Atlantic the morning you watched
as grief sifted through the cold April
sand, when you did not comprehend
how you would ever find the way
back to yourself again.
but the faint sounds of family and
textures of a life well lived
have been whispering
the quiet beauty of leaves
dancing in the wind
his soft breathing in the dark,
your sons’ laughter,
the promise of a safe dawn.
you are a lover of words,
a storyteller in pictures
a counterpart to good men,
a warrior on the treacherous journey,
a forgiving mother, healer, an unapologetic leader
imperfect but not broken
fallible but not afraid
you are the savior of self,
a collector of unbearable beauty.
© August 2021 heather brager
a single mother struggling for
two beautiful boys,
left alone on the high plains.
you are no longer the
desperate fear trapped
in a closet, his drunken body
blocking your escape.
you are not the confused
little girl in the barn,
sitting on his lap with
his hands groping for an excuse.
you are not just the abandoned sister,
the capable but lonely daughter,
the destroyer of social structures,
the lonely middle child,
the temptress and strumpet,
the solitary savior of broken men
always with the best of intentions.
you try to recall the moment when these
memories became soft and muted,
their tenderness nearly unbearable
like when the sun rose over the northern
Atlantic the morning you watched
as grief sifted through the cold April
sand, when you did not comprehend
how you would ever find the way
back to yourself again.
but the faint sounds of family and
textures of a life well lived
have been whispering
the quiet beauty of leaves
dancing in the wind
his soft breathing in the dark,
your sons’ laughter,
the promise of a safe dawn.
you are a lover of words,
a storyteller in pictures
a counterpart to good men,
a warrior on the treacherous journey,
a forgiving mother, healer, an unapologetic leader
imperfect but not broken
fallible but not afraid
you are the savior of self,
a collector of unbearable beauty.
© August 2021 heather brager
Art: Lucy Campbell
