Ironic it is that as I proclaim sister
after sister
of judging
and breaking
I sit there on my writers throne doing just the same?
Judging
breaking
shame on me

heres' a poem for me
I have sat in the same judgment seat as my sisters
my sisters' are all a part of me
we all have breathed the same air of discontentment
we have all lived with the same people
growing up with the same thick air
sometimes you could slice with a knife
sometimes as soft as butter
and as light as air
the distant sound of 'grown up talk'
laughter as we all went to our own private dreamland
the distant smell of dark bitter wine
so comfortable
the world we knew
and so different from the world then
the little ones knew
when the air stayed thick and never lightened
the bitter grew out of the wine and into the very
being of our parents
and wine stayed dark and red
bitter and loud
and happy times were less and less
often
until in Barbara's time
they disappeared altogether
I always wondered what kind of world we were bringing the last two up in
where there was never light laughter and bitter wine
in the night
but the very air was bitter and nothing was light
I worried about those younger ones
without parents' to weave thier pasts together
they seemed like orphans
and perhaps they grew up as such
it certainly explains their present
the anger they both seem to harbor unrelentlessly
I do not feel they hold at me
I was just a child too
after the bitter wine won

Melissa
sweet Melissa
sweet venomous Mel
I love you even when your biting
we've been competitive
even though you haven't known it
I have hid this
since we were children
my competitive streak
always wanting to do you one better
always watching you do me one better
your competive streak is dangerous
while mine is secret
you hurt me my big sister
my only sister that is older then me; if only by a couple years
in your need to be better you crunched me down
your bigness
swallowed me whole
and I couldn't find myself
my sister that's older
I still look to you
when the going gets rough
I watch to see what way you'll go
how you will react
your my secret longing
even though you fell off
of the pedestal
long ago

I write of the first two often
but our story is so complicated
your the middle one
and like the youngest two
you believe strongly
and you can't see past
your strong beliefs
even when you might lose friends
you still secretly believe you were right all along
and your tongue can lash the most painful of wounds
yet I love you
you keep yourself out there
in this world
something that I can never/could never do
like Ellicia I tend to isolate myself and hide just a little
but I watch you
and in watching you; I live
your love is phenomenal
your utter disregard for others' feelings formidable
it is okay to break something apart if you love it
you believe this with all your heart
and it's okay to lose your temper
it's okay to open your mouth and insert foot
and perhaps your right
because your in it
you live your life
and you are honest
to a fault
and I can never ever cease to be amazed by you
although Barbara was my childhood favorite;
she who was lost by the thunderstorm we know as Clint
your my adult favorite
I adore you

ellicia; the kind one
but are you really?
you there in your sea of knowledge
don't you think we know this knowledge?
we see you eating from this tree
but knowledge is nothing
without wisdom
and wisdom is nothing
without Jehovah
so you plan
the perfect birth
the candles and music
the most pefect way to enter this dismal world
just you and your husband welcoming this new infant
how romantic
how perfect
and researched yes
I acknowledge this
if research is reading romantic stories and not searching
for the contigencies
sweetie, there are always contingencies
thats life
the pefect birth
your perfect plan so easily can turn on your
and life is so fragile
so beautiful; yet so fragile
so impossibly imperfect
a tear that can not be stopped
a newborn baby not breathing
oh to not fear these dreadful things
what arrogance to believe they can't happen
not to you
not to your perfect birth
Murphy's Law always applies
you can not isolate yourself away from this
whatever can happen; will happen
you can not isolate yourself away from the truth
you can not live in this paradise you have made for yourself
however so sweet and optimistic
I love you for your dreams
but I can not support you in your risk taking
not when there is a baby involved
A baby
doesnt' care what her birth story is
a baby only wants to be alive
a perfect birth
is only perfect to the mother
like a wedding that is looked upon for years
and years
the most perfect day in the world
the young girl dreams
and the day comes
but doesn't matter
what matters is the days that follow
the decades of living with the same person
wanting to live and love, die and hate
so it is with the perfect birth
it doesnt' matter
what matters are the days, weeks, months, years that follow
decades of loving a person
who in the end; barely thinks of you
look at y ou, look at barbara
tell me that I do not know what I am talking about
your perfect birth
your being selfish
and worrying your family
unnecessarily
I don't know if this time
you can be forgiven
your baby only asks to be loved

my little sister in her youthful vigor; sits in her judgment seat wanting something.
drama she feels has never come to the fore
doesn't she know that there is nothing that hasn't been said
a million times or none?
she wants a change or her moment of justification
we were here first oh youngest sister I want to say
Ten years ahead of you in a time that was not your own
you search for an answer
a romantic version of an intervention
he drinks; she drinks
your all wrong
interwebbed;
so right you feel
child
your so right
we may not be so right; but we stay together
codependent?
your my girl
little toddler at my heels
I never pushed you away
I spoiled the kindness right out of you
so that you can sit in your judgement seat
saying the things that shouldn't be said
trying to break the family that has always held you so tight
what have we done to you for you to look at us with such disdain?
we only loved you
we held you too high and we spoke with each other
Barbara did this today
You can't believe what she said this day
we laughed at every word you said
we adored the heart right out of you
so that you ran to the first man (kid) that showered you with adoration
and drama; oh his drama
and you sit there with him
high on your little thrones
and he pushes you
further and further away
from us
we almost can't see you anymore
your deep deep in the distances; little specks of life
hes' pushed you further and further away from your family
the one thing that remains
hes' pushing you pulling you
and you go willingly
your knight in shining melodrama
always knows best
and you know as he tells you that
your family is messed up
he drinks; she drinks
yelling and loving
The chaos of family; let's not judge it
but we live it..
I wouldn't want my children anywhere else
where else would they learn how to love the unloveable?
to believe and to hope and to watch and dream?
What love is?
Not letting go when the going gets rough
not sitting on a throne in judgement
but to be out there and in it
Living it

the sweetness;
the little pixie making mud pies.
Try momma! she pleads happily.
content in her backyard
in her little hole of mud and plastic planters.
Hours of play; work.
Her mud pies are delicious.
Never again will she find such joy.
she doesn't know

The problem with friends

I don't know if i want them. They are alot of trouble; they wear you out! I remembered this. I am just tired I assume. Friends are such tricky beings. Sometimes it is easier being alone

Think spring

I am thinking of my mother, my grandmther ; Today I amthinking of me. Who are we; but versions of our past? What part of me is grandma (sitting there on the porch of her garage; waiting for us to come and visit. The smell of sweat and hard work still on her as she watches the skyline and we pull into her driveway. Her happiness on being outside on such a beautiful day is contagious and her and my mother sit down to talk. We children go straight to the tire swing (or the big giant hill that my long dead grandfather had made to protect his little family from the threat of nuclear war)

I am this woman today. Today as pull weeds and small stems of weedy trees from my garden beds. I smell the earth and the dirt and it is here that I miss my grandmother. I miss my mother even though she is not gone. I miss the young woman with beauty and tiredness she wear as a crown. I see the children allaound her ; always a girl child mom. are you sorry for that? I see her youth flush on her face; life is hard she knew that; but her and my dad were still bestest friends and she can not imagine the unhappiness that would confront her when this was no longer the truth. The anger that would overwelm her. and us. Itwould confound us and confuse us. My dad would hide in his computers or turn his head like he couldn't see when she was trying so hard to get him to SEE.

We didn't see even though we tried (some more then others) I wear that brokeness of my mothers'. I wear it as a crown of thorns. I see it today and even though we SEE it. We can not fix it. The anger which is still there stays mute most days ; but I still hold back from hugging her;all her hugs to most beloved children .. they are all one sided. I hope we feel BIG to act so SMALL. My poor mother.. we are so afraid of you..so weary.

I am my mother nonetheless in my (shooting daggers at my husband for daring to interrupt a moment of thought) I sit and wait for the other shoe to drop. ( like my mother)

I am my grandmother and I am her daughter. I see them together both broken (having lost their entire family in five short years) My grandfather dead of a long fought cancer; only five years later the eldest daughter also succombed. (today that cancer Hodgkins is mostly beatable; but in the late sixties and eary seventies it was not) I see my grandmother pushing, squishing her daughter closer; willing the young adoloscent to be both daugthers; instead of just Judy. I see my mother pulling, running .. away from that need of her mothers' as we pull away from our mothers' need (all five us girls) afraid to take all of the pain becaus the pain might break us too.

I am myself; the whole world sitting on my shoulders'. always fearful of losing all my loves. I am myself clinging to my little children; begging, daring for their age to slow down. I am proud of them and their accomplishments; but, I live in fear as my mother and my grandmother and I don't want them to leave me. I want them to be my little children forever. Never ever to pull away from me as I hug them tightly. I don't want them to die as my grandmothers' family died on her.

I am my grandmother and my mother love and happiness alight on their faces i the first gleanings of spring. Their love for life was contagious and intoxicating. I hope to be as strong as them. I hope to never lose so much as they lost. If I do however; I hope to make it through and endure. To not snap off like pieces of tiwgs worn out from the harsh winter. I hope to be made of stronger stuff; like this famiy of mine whom; although worn in places were still beautiful and whenever spring arrives; I will always always think of them and the glory of the earth.