lora-mathis
My mother is not one
to take matters into her own hands.
She waits,
patiently,
for things to come to her.
Nine years in an unhappy marriage
and still she wears the ring.
Says it’s not because she honors the
relationship,
but because she likes the way the light
reflects off of it.
Most of the the time
what she wants
never comes,
but still she talks about it
in “what if”s and “I wish I”s…,
telling me things would have
been different
if only she had
married what’s his name
or gone to school
or not had kids
or run away while
there was still time.
I listen to her as I
make plans in my head
on what to do
and who to become next.
I do not sit and wait.
I go,
haphazardly,
straight into fires,
burning the entire time.
You would not think
that we are made
out of the same substance,
but my mother was once
a flame,
until she started believing
that she needed
gasoline
or somebody’s help
in order to be
lit.
Family of Fires | Lora Mathis  (via lora-mathis)