Tag Archives: mother
Our Lady of Eternal Valentines, forever bestowing tenderest mercy and heart-shaped harbor to the world’s sorrowful lot.
My father and I visited my mother’s grave. Nothing about it felt profound or moving. It felt like a prescribed exercise in courtesy, a bland ritual. One thing that gave it a dramatic feel: it was raining. … Continue reading
The only time I had ever seen my grandfather cry was also the first time I had ever seen an adult blatantly lose touch with reality. His first wife, my grandmother, Angelina, had died when I was five. She … Continue reading
Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress. Toward the end my mother began to open up. Of course I didn’t know the end was coming, nor did my father. My mother, during the last several months, had become a … Continue reading
Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress. I remember the time, Anya, when my mother asked about you and me. I was thirteen. My mother’s sickness was in its early stages. She had already turned the couch in the livingroom … Continue reading
Mother, without your touch, blood-lush access to eternity’s grasp, I am rudderless, and adrift, in a world that shits on innocence. ………………………………….. Daughter, without you to hold, a promise illumined into love’s totem, I am sunless, and moonless, a stray … Continue reading
Fearful symmetry, the shape of deep, fragile love– Winter’s cradle, stirred.