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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required One of my relatives, at my mom’s funeral viewing, I can’t remember who Told me, in a feeble yet vivid voice, how my life will be much easier Now that my mom is gone and that I can now concentrate on myself, for a change And I just brushed it off, like how I brush, dusts off of my shoes Because I knew that she didn’t know me very well, justifiably Because she has never seen how my heart can open up, like a faucet Because, she has never seen the depths of me with my passion And how, in a good day or maybe even, on a bad day They just, come, pouring out of it, Come pouring out of me, like raindrops off of my eyes Like trickles of tears from the murky clouds of the heavens Like rain on a winter’s night They are unstoppable They have a mind of their own, And they just naturally, come, as they please And forgive me because I’m just a newbie at this myself A baby who finally just learned how to appreciate the beauty of each drop It’s funny because, I’ve always considered myself an artist at heart Even when my heart has no such novelties to show for it I’m that singer who can’t sing I’m that dancer with two left feet I am that painter who lacks paint I am that writer who’s afraid of words I am that poet who writes for no one in particular But somehow, it just dawn on me like an eclipsing of the solar moon That I am an artist because I believe in the authority of love I believe in the language that all artists can understand by heart And that my mom has always been inside it She is the poet-extension of me She’s my muse as well as my fuse And so in regards to what one of my relatives once said I really can’t contest any of it now Because maybe she’s right in some form or another But not because of my mom being gone But because of how I feel every bit of my mom essence Flowing inside the artist in me December 20, 2015
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