Mami loved Daddy with fierce exhaustion,
gripping and manipulating her way
into his heart and life.
I watched, young and naïve,
expecting to love the same way
without clawing my way into anyone’s heart.
Her end result was always similar:
He would vanish while we slept,
appeared years later when in trouble,
and played the same role again and again
until the lights went out and he exited off stage
into parallel dimension.
I was left to soothe her, remind her of life,
as I walked around with a perfect halo of light
that would make her proud and forget
the hole she had inside.
I watched discovering love,
witnessing its complexities
not as easy and fearless as I felt in my core,
emulating it to look healthy when it wasn’t.
For a long time
I didn’t fall far from her examples
reliving a love that never was….
She never remarried. Never gave another her heart.
And, when she looked at me,
my easy-going ways,
she was reminded of Daddy and his carefree attitude
that opened doors everywhere he went.
It could not have been easy….
Now with my own children I witness love:
the allowing, accepting, and awareness
that one cannot magically instill onto another,
often times the remains of being pushed,
shoved and discarded as they grow and learn.
Loving hard doesn’t mean enforcing yourself
while possessing their rights to be free
or to be imprisoned by the likes of a human being
as they will turn to reject the reason for this “love.”
Love isn’t Mami and Daddy’s way,
lost in translation of expectations,
words, gestures, and stories
while implementing rules, lies and excuses
for social opinions.
It is conceived from universal freedom,
two souls meeting again and again,
in a tango of beauty, compassion and respect
where nothing is expected
but everything is easily promised through
a contract of Divine light, wisdom,