Symbolic Interactionism (original poem)

meant to post this yesterday when I wrote it but was battling migraines (and still am, I've been hiding in a dark room for the last 6 hours and am too wired up from the caffeine that helps with the migraine pain to have any hope of getting to sleep anytime soon), then more crap hit the fan today that added a few lines to this from a totally different direction. I share this response to the forces that keep trying to hold me down, in hopes that others who feel that they're being held down and back might find it and find strength to push back through my words.

Whoever you are, you are not what others present you to be. You are more than the sum total of their opinions of you. Find your inner core reality, find something to LOVE about yourself, and stand upon that foundation when they try to knock you down. Then go look for that inner core reality worth loving in those around you, help them find it and stand with them. This is the way to real strength, from what I've lived.

Here's the poem:

Symbolic Interactionism

"You're so stubborn" you declared
as if not knowing where
I came from - this dissolution
of dissatisfaction
is not a symptom of mule-headedness.
I cannot confess
upon my knees,
nor begging will you see
for the scraps you've ever thrown my way.
I have put away those days
where I longed for you
and not some substitute
teacher, role model worth
the intentionality of my birth.
Decades of my always being the one
to bring the olive branch home
only to have you turn it into a switch
- the scars still itch
when I forget my self
and allow ghosts to dwell
within my heart crying "if only..."
but that path got too lonely
and I left it long ago
when I decided to blaze my own -
who cares if bridges burn
if they lead nowhere? So I learned
to release my hate, sadness, and resentment.
Now all you are to me is a disappointment,
a distraction from other priorities
that have taken over my loyalties.
Looking my way, you see
what you always wished to be
but you were unwilling to do the work
so resent my reminder of your worth.
I stopped crying for you a lifetime ago,
yet there is one more thing you should know.
When you called me stubborn, you were wrong.
I'm not JUST stubborn, I am strong,
beautiful, intelligent and kind.
And you can no longer claim what's mine.

(started 201110261401 added to 201110272338 - those are date/time marks for the curious YYYYMMDDHHMM)

First Birth (original poem by Ahmie Yeung)

I thought I had posted this ages ago but a search of my blog is not pulling it up anywhere. I had also meant to share it on the anniversary of my eldest's birth 3 weeks ago, then got distracted while looking for it on my hard drive. Today isn't any particularly special day - my 2nd son's birthday is in a week and I'm posting this now so I don't forget then. Just went looking for something else to do while my computer works on uploading wedding pictures I took for my friends on Saturday (almost typed "yesterday" then looked at the clock and realized it's after 1am so it's Monday now). The numbers at the end are my time stamp for when I finished it - year.month.day.hour.minute (approx). Hopefully it's readable, it's posted as an image because the formatting doesn't translate to web otherwise and the alternating of straight against the margin then undulating in a somewhat random pattern was the way I experienced my labor (I never fell into a regular pattern... not in 3 unmedicated, intervention-free births. Just not the way I roll ;) ).


Copyright is mine, yada yada yada... don't be an ass, ask first before reposting and don't try to claim it as your own.

Driven by the Past (original poem)

To a place I never drove before I feel driven
by the blood in my veins
Pulled by bones set in space
Ages ago in a place
All I wanted to do was leave
When there
The air was stiffling
Of all I longed to be
But my memory
Is foggy with
Years and maturity
I chauffeur myself with passenger-eyes
Back into a past I thought
Long suppressed
If not healed.
Before I only approached
Under duress
In distress
Of what might come.
Now I will myself forward
Into this past
So much less intimidating
With years and grown inches
On my side
The child I was peeks out
From where she hides
Quietly in my soul
It's all so much
less
than I remembered it.

2009.3.24.11.55

(this was written after stopping by to look at the house my dad bought after divorcing my mom when I was 2. The novel I'm writing takes place about 1/4th mile east of that area, from my distance estimating abilities. Suffice to say I didn't enjoy the time spent with him during his court-determined visitations and don't remember much of that time very fondly.)

My Own Midwife (original poem)

I will midwife my self
Reach inside and bring a new me to birth
Shape my own world so different from Earth
With eyes open wide and glowing with worth
Life flowing on with rapturous mirth

I will find sustainance within my own breast
Rise above the sludge that mires the rest
I'll filter the toxic and consume the best
Always preparing for what will come next

(composed on my BlackBerry while using a Migun
thermo-massage bed after putting an audiobook
on pause first - I am the queen of multitasking!
This IS how I relax.)