Thankfulness and Memories and Such

28 11 2010

Thankfulness is not gratitude. Its pretext does not demand expectation of reciprocal thanks. Thankfulness is solemn and subtle like a songbird’s nest in winter.

Should one express thanks for events based on fear, abuse, and chaos? Does the birth of something beautiful from something so horrid dark and ugly owe it’s origin’s such a blessing. When we give thanks to those “uglies” whom/which may have contributed to our joys are we not empowering them?

The child/parent relationship is a perennial steaming piss of misunderstandings and misaligned needs. The daughter who sees the suffering in her mother’s face cannot soothe the two contradictory yet tumultuous seas of guilt and freedom boiling inside her. Attempting to appease a mother’s need for increased intimacy is like a dangling icicle on the back porch of the heart. Too much warmth may cause the mother or daughter to break away but greater frost may shatter the body.

Boxes lie like burnt tongues in the house’s evening shadows. Yellowed newspaper cringes as dust continues to settle on porcelain refugees and wooden prisoners. Antiques without a memory remind us. Nicks, smudges, and fingerprints breathe screams, secrets, and bruises.

Conversations, scripted words devoid of grammar, logic, or kindness. A flushed flurry of fiery words that burn the tongue and scar the ear. The heart trembles.

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One response

29 11 2010
daingerfield

You are so sweet

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