For Mom

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By M.W. Twyman

For Mom

Laughter pulls your heart and lines your face,

Your hair’s a mane of gold and waves,

Specks of mica fleck your eyes, as they reflect your joy,

These are my memories that cancer can’t destroy.

Your spirit is full of light and fire,

Burning through the darkness of cancer’s mire,

Your body battled, but had to succumb,

Still your soul shines bright, and a shining star it’s become.

You are not lost, just starting anew,

As we all ache and long for you,

Our hearts feel pierced, and our spirits are low,

But you have your eyes on us all, our struggle you know.

Your wings stretch across the galaxy,

Your body became a prison, until your soul broke free,

Now you soar among the stars,

When they twinkle, that’s how we’ll know where you are.

You were a daughter, sister, mother, partner, wife,

It’s hard to admit that you’ve moved on from this life,

But we all know this is how it must be,

You’ll always be a part of her, him, me… we.

As you loved us, we’ll continue to love you,

As you smiled, we’ll continue to smile too,

We are grateful to have had your love,

In fact, we still have it, we feel it when the sun shines

down on us from above.

12.6.2016

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It’s happened… you’re gone. I watched your eyes flutter open and stared into their depths, letting my tears blur my own vision as I told you it was ok to leave. I held your hand long after you stopped squeezing it. The image of you scrunching up your face and delicately coughing is seared into the very fabric that constitutes as my memory. 


I watched your pink topaz and silver cross ride the weakening pulse of your heartbeat as it lay on your frail collar bone. I was determined to stare into your eyes as you quickly unfastened your soul from the confines of your body preparing to continue your journey without me.


When you left, I knew. You turned away from me and your pulse stilled. I have no one to share my pain with. It sounds selfish, I know… but that doesn’t make it untrue. You and I, we had run the same path, climbed the same obstacles and had been branded by the experience. No one else gets it. No one saw your inner beast rise to the surface to protect me when you were around to witness my assault. No one saw you stand in the face of evil and spit in it’s eye. No one saw your dim, yellowed light, pierce through the gummy, ink-black tar of the devil to surround me with an imperfect yet durable and powerful love… no one saw that, except for me.


You are my mom… “were” is not an appropriate adjective since it doesn’t stop being a fact that you birthed me. You ARE my mom. I believe that more now than I ever have. Your passing left me baring my soul and exposing my wounds to the elements of society. My foundation has been severely compromised. It will repair itself, but there will always be a fracture that leads to a pit of darkness. My light now shines a little less bright… and that’s ok. It will serve to remind me of your scent, the way your hugs felt, it will remind me of you kissing my cheek and telling me that I’m the most important thing in your life. Your imperfections were your most beautiful attributes in some ways. I love you Mom.

10.25.2016

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There’s still fight in you… a burning desire to live. I know you’re still clawing at the fibers that hold you to this reality, but the sparkle and flecks of gold that danced in your eyes for years has faded. But that’s one thing that I’ve always admired about you, your tenacity and refusal to submit. I like to think that I inherited these traits from you.


I can still get you to smile, I can still get you to blow me kisses, and I still feel my heart break every time that I hug you goodbye and head to the airport.


I’m not always honest with myself, sometimes I pretend that you’ll get better. Sometimes I bury my thoughts and emotions away in a vault deep inside where no one can get to them… it’s the same vault I used throughout my journey through hell during the years of my childhood.


I lost you to drugs and a narcissistic demon named Luap when I was in second grade, then got you back when I moved to Florida, but you were living in a haze. I can still remember the way my skin split and bled during the beatings that Luap would give me. I can still remember the few occasions when you happened to be home during his attacks and tried to defend me. Dazed or not, your motherly instincts overpowered the demon, pushing him back into his rotten den. But despite the way you tried to protect me, I ran. I voluntarily gave you up and my heart ached from it, but shortly after, you joined me in Maryland. Then you disappeared again. This time without a trace.


I don’t tell everyone this because of the fear that they’ll think I’m crazy. But I knew you were gone before anyone told me. I dreamed you were there in my aunt’s home. Floating in the middle of the room. You held a giant box but said nothing. See, it was my birthday and the box was my present. I went to you, and lifted the lid from the box only to find not a gift, but a black hole that reached into a never ending abyss. Then my aunt’s clock started to chime and you floated backwards until you disappeared through a wall. I woke up with a pain in my heart that I had never felt before. You were gone… and I knew it. I had lost you again.


I spent the years of my childhood fighting to maintain a hold on your image, your scent, the sound of your voice, anything that would keep you “real”.


Namaw broke down every time she and I discussed you. She missed you so much. I believe that I made an effort to locate you just as much for her as for myself.


When I found some of your old paperwork buried in Namaw’s home, I immediately made a trip to the address that I saw listed on the demon’s documents. I knocked on the door, saw your gold flecked eyes through the blinds and knew the moment when recognition took root in your mind. I saw you “wake up”, I heard your heart pound again. You came out of stasis and began trying to live again. You couldn’t completely step back into the real world, for too many years had passed filled with abuse and neglect, but you tried regardless of the limitations you faced. I was 20 years old when I found you in Florida.


Here we are present day and I’m losing you again… I’m 32. You’re 57. I feel like my whole life I’ve been playing tug and war with you. Pulling you towards the light while the darkness tried to keep its claws in you. It may appear to outsiders that I’ve lost but I know that we’ve won. You know that you are loved, you know that I would do anything to protect you, and everytime I hug you I can feel your love for me. You will live on after this, just not with me here in this world. Wherever you land and continue on, I pray that a little piece of my soul goes with you to keep you company, to be your cheerleader.


I love you so much.

3.12.2016

Can you hear me in your dreams? Not the me of today, but the me of yesteryear. The child you lost to abuse, drugs, and denial? It must of hurt, your heart and mind craving the embrace of tiny arms, but your body aching for a fix. I know it hurt, because I see who you gave your life up to… the monster that destroyed my childhood and condemned you.

Catch The Wind

source: http://selenada.deviantart.com/

By M.W. Twyman

My heart keeps breaking. When I think of my mother, I think of a battle, a tug-of-war between light and darkness. Like a fallen angel… her wings have been sullied by the ashes that coat the damp, spongy soil, of the pitch black shadows that she tries to thrive in. The light sits just above her realm of existence, but she can never fly that high no matter how hard she flaps.

She doesn’t realize that the ashes dirty the feathers of her wings to the point that they can no longer catch the wind. So, when she leaps from a cliff and tries to soar, she winds up plummeting instead. Usually before she hits the craggy, boulder-strewn plains below, she is able to gain purchase on the air and lift herself back up… not this time.

This time she’s falling too fast and her feathers are sticking tight. This time, she won’t catch the wind, she’ll close her eyes tight and upon impact be pushed into another realm, another existence. She’ll get another chance to keep her feathers clean and let her wings catch the wind.

My mother’s ashes are drugs and abuse. The boulders are the deadly cancer that stamps its initials on her mind… GBM.