dashing and smashing

she, like a bull in the china shop

dashed

and broke every fragile glassware

the familial values

together

we accumulated

and guarded so well

through trial and error

and with much pain

to cherish

to build

that neatly arranged

little nest

all in a moment

of fleeing
with no consideration

except

for her larger bed

that could accommodate a variety

calling it freedom and opportunity!

smashing

that beautiful building

the home of three

all

for sake of getting rid of the sacred

responsibility

that motherhood

that constantly demanded

a modeling

a witnessing

for all emerging mothers

thus she dashed

smashed

her mother’s motherhood

with her own

and that of her own daughter’s

henry victor     19.07.2010

wait to enter

as i tightly gripped the walls

with my soft fingers, you gently

embraced my total frame expanding

ever so fast like a new house

with a sacred chamber one day

will house another me now housed

with all essential fluid, fire and firm

flesh, mettle to let me hold my soul

until ready to enter the theatre

that dance to perform with music

from other dances around and joy

and sorrows trapped deep in mind

© henry victor           02.06.2016

from your son

mommy! you made your slim and sensual frame

into a shapeless bundle, bundling my being inside
you for nine long months, keeping me, a worm, warm,
free from hunger and thirst, marks of the world outside;

and today! you struggle to work so hard to remain a mom
of great affection, cuddling me, as you march to a profession
greater, and your time for me is likely to reduce, to dim
like a lamp gathering smoke soot on her facial expression,

like your mom before you, travelling that path of darkness

prior to teaching you skills to swim, to avoid sinking in a pool,
without that settling in a trailer park, to bike and hike, distances
incredible to inspire me, that i may avoid the way of a fool!

henry victor     12.05.2013

graduating

she now knows love
love, not a lifeless thing
that she used to talk about those days
while carrying a backpack
full of books and binders

a mustang she wanted to drive
symbol of success and speed
a perfect blend with boom
and the ooze of black-gold

but today for her
only one thing that matter
living with a man
sharing his failure
to graduate from a high school

that teaches not techniques
to survive that stoppage
of an upward movement
and a free flow of more

her achievement
she carries with care
as if holding the first university degree
that will open the greater door
to a doctorate
to walk around with a prefix
before her name

now she smiles, inside
every time she feels that kick
a little stretching
in that cozy cave
intricately decorated convocation hall
calling him, her baby
while feeling that wall, outside

her boy will soon graduate
to enjoy her love
her success, her own graduation
to that new title – mum