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  • April 8th, 2010 | 2:20 AM
30 Poems in 30 Days - Where Am I?


My personal challenge for National Poetry Month is to write
a poem a day about the father I have never known.


WHERE AM I?

The only pictures I've ever seen
are from their wedding.
My mother looked like a princess
with her tiny waist
in her lace dress
smiling her perfect smile for the camera.
My father wore a white jacket that
hung loose on his thin frame
his hair cut so short
that his big ears stuck out
like a car with both doors open.

My mother kept the pictures
in the pink box with her wedding dress
tucked in the corner of my grandmother's attic.
She never told me not to look
but I always waited for her to go to work
before I crept upstairs, found the pictures,
and spread them out until
I was surrounded
by my father's face.

His hair was Cherokee black
his eyes dark
and when I looked at him
I could find nothing of myself to claim.

I wanted that black hair
growing long down my back
like a rope connecting me to him.
I would have even taken his big ears,
just to help him recognize me,
when he came home.


@copyright Susan Taylor Brown 2010
    All Rights Reserved
 

There are so many stories only you can tell.Tell them, please.



Comments

( 9 comments — Leave comment )
(Anonymous)
April 8th, 2010 07:56 am (UTC)
I don't feel a bond to either my Mother or my Father so I can really understand what you are saying. It does make for a sad life like there is a piece of the puzzle missing. I hope my boys don't say the same thing about me one day.

Yes you are helping me to heal, we will heal together I am sure.

- Anne McKenna
susanwrites
April 9th, 2010 05:52 am (UTC)
That's it, exactly, Anne, that missing piece. As long as you can tell your boys things, I think it will good.
jamarattigan
April 8th, 2010 10:41 am (UTC)
Yes, keep going. I want to know more . . .
susanwrites
April 9th, 2010 05:53 am (UTC)
Thank you, Jama. I worry each night that I will have something else to say!
jeniwrites
April 8th, 2010 01:25 pm (UTC)
I've loved all of the poems you've written, but this one in particular touched me. The last six lines in particular were very moving. Thank you for sharing.
susanwrites
April 9th, 2010 05:53 am (UTC)
Thank you, Jeni. The supportive comments are helping me to keep going.
tracyworld
April 8th, 2010 04:30 pm (UTC)
Susan, these are all so powerful and filled with amazing imagery. Each time I read one, it's as if you reached into my chest and seized my heart.
susanwrites
April 9th, 2010 05:53 am (UTC)
Thank you, Tracy. From my heart to yours.
(Anonymous)
April 12th, 2010 09:56 am (UTC)
tanita says :)
Stranger still is to see photographs of them smiling -- and you've never seen that smile either because you've never seen them, or the "them" you know are so unhappy that there's just no place on their faces for such expressions.

It feels so weird to look back and wonder where you might have fit in...
( 9 comments — Leave comment )
WHO AM I?



Who am I?I was born on the Cancer/Leo cusp and share a birthday with Ernest Hemingway and Robin Williams. The similarities don't stop there as I can go from depressed to ecstatic without ever passing go. I feel scared most of the time though my friends call me brave and I find it easier to believe in my friends than to believe in my own abilities to make what I want out of my life.

Who am I? A wife, a mother, a daughter, and even, gulp, a grandmother.

Who am I? A writer who never gets tired of playing with words, even when the words are hard to find. A writer of books for children and articles for grown-ups and many things in-between.

Who am I? A motivational speaker, writing instructor, workshop leader and full-time follower of dreams.

Who am I? Read and find out.






Susan Taylor Brown

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"Successful writers are not the ones who write the best sentences. They are the ones who keep writing. They are the ones who discover what is most important and strangest and most pleasurable in themselves, and keep believing in the value of their work, despite the difficulties."
--Bonnie Friedman

"As writers, we must be willing to feel our sadness, our anger, our terror, so we can reach in and find our sweet vulnerability that is just sitting there waiting for us to come back home."
--Nancy Slonim Aronie

"Writers write about what obsesses them. You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at the age of 6. I lost my faith as a Catholic. When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is."
--Anne Rice

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