Desperation still resides in me
A repository even
Happily married, regular sex even
But that dry reservoir of joy
My friend's brother killed himself this weekend
"My brother took his life"
David Foster Wallace, 46
Diane Arbus, 47
Frida Kahlo, 48
Tasha Diamant, 47
I went to that place tonight, for a moment
Sometimes I go there
Something about knowing, like really deeply and viscerally knowing, how things are connected and
The so what grinds me up
Something about ancient ancient ancient loss
Who mothers the mothers?
The little one climbs on top of me and falls asleep
And the older one rolls against me and puts her hand on my arm
And I feel their weight and their breath
And they hold me down with their themness, their hereness, their selfness
And I remember
I am a mother, their mother
How can the world not know?
How can I not grieve such ignorance?
My homies, gone
But I am a mother, their mother
And they help teach me to be mother to myself
And I am learning