Posted in love, poetry

Always and Forever

Always and Forever  I don’t know how I forgot about that book. I saw it in the window of a used bookstore last week, stumbling into childhood nostalgia as if jumping into a puddle, both feet all at once, splashed by  flashes of of my mom cradling me in her arms, singing the made up melody to the song in that forgotten book.   I’m amazed I learned to sleep without her hug, without her voice rocking me into dreams, without the comfort of a mother in the room down the hall, amazed I could wake without the gentle coaxing of her singing and the warmth of her arms holding me, assuring me that she’d keep me safe.  Wake up Leanne, wake up Leanne, wake up, wake up, wake up, she’d sing, coaxing my eyes to open, teaching me through song how to fill a room with love, and bright eyed soak it up with the morning sun. I always felt ready for the day, nurtured by her hand in mine, fingers always and forever intertwined until the moment she knew she could let go, taking off the training wheels to my bicycle, and watch me ride alone.   —Leanne Rebecca

I write this poem with extreme thanks for the blessed life that I’ve led, a carefree childhood and loving family. I recognize that Mother’s Day isn’t rainbows and butterflies for many people: mothers that have lost their children, children that have lost their mothers, broken families, reality. Even in my family, there’s an element of sadness on this day. My parents buried their first child when she was 16 months old. This is also the first Mother’s Day since my Grandma Genny died.

It’s easy to forget that many many emotions surround this day and where one family smiles another might cry. It’s important to empathize and take a moment to think about the true weight of this day. I find it allows me to appreciate what I have that much more. I’m beyond thankful to be filled with so much love.

I love you, Mom.

–Leanne Rebecca

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Posted in art, poetry, writing

My People

My people  There’s a part of me in every one of them, split projections reflecting back so that if they stood in a circle a hologram of me would appear in the center. Each one carries a different trait, an elemental slice of who I am— the way she cowers behind her hands, diverting and accentuating the social awkwardness of interacting in public places; the way he relinquishes his soul to music, making sense of emotion through lyrics, expressing a mood in a song choice; the way she overthinks; the tempo that he sings; how she doubts whether she wore the right earrings; that he laughs at inappropriate pauses in conversation; her resilience evidenced in getting out of bed and trying again. They’re my people, friends so familiar we share tears, so close I see their faces in my mirror— without them I’d disappear.

I think it’s important to notate that the rhyme in the last  lines is completely unintentional! The last step in my writing process always involves reading the poem out loud (which probably gives people the impression I’m talking to myself, especially if I’m in a coffee shop or something). Anyway, I didn’t notice the rhyme until that moment and in utter honesty, I liked the individual lines too much to change it. Deal with it.

Happy Tuesday!