we'll be okay

Mother Love, a poem

Poems

Mother Love, a poem by Jean M. Hodges

I can’t tell what my birthmother was thinking

When she nearly died having me

Like I can’t tell what Christ’s mother was thinking

When she risked dying having him

Now, I’m not arrogant enough to compare myself to the Savior

But I know for a fact that love was Mary’s guiding light to do right by her child

And  that she was glad to see the person her little Jesus grew up to be

And that has taught me some sort of empathy

As for my own mother, well…

If Jesus could forgive the woman at well of Jacob

Then I must know that I can forgive the woman who has granted me everlasting life, right? But-

This might be the nineteenth time she’s forgotten about my birthday

Which wouldn’t be that big a deal if I wasn’t barely over two decades old

Last year, she sent me a letter preaching forgiveness and to get over my own anger

When I know for a fact that you have to feel something for someone in order to get angry at them

And that letter is at the bottom of a box somewhere, packed away with my hopes for a life with her in it

 And I didn’t think about it again til spring came along with my birthday coming along with it

And now I realize that all the ‘I love yous’ she has left for me weren’t really for me

They were for the baby she left gasping for air in a hospital bed

And I am still trying to be at peace with that

THE END

Original publish year: 2018

(c) Jean M. Hodges

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Open Ocean, a poem

Poems

Open Ocean, a poem by Jean M. Hodges

When you live in the ocean, it’s hard to notice all the salt floating in the water

When you’re shipped on the ocean, it’s hard to remember when your human when they’re too busy putting us in boxes to notice

But then we got louder, and showed off our colors and had the audacity to be so bright and pretty on a white canvas that we bothered people for with our fluorescence

And now some of us are considering washing out the paint, because it’s making it to put bullseyes on our backs

“Are you ok?” I ask. And my best friend’s text buzzes as soon as we all get the announcement , as if this is the last letter he can send me before they send him off to a concentration camp with a pink triangle branded on his body

“I’m gonna burn a flag today”, he said cheerfully, as if discussing morning coffee

“Fuck, ok, man. “ I say. “Well, good luck making bail. If I’m sold out before that, you’re staying there.”

We laugh cuz we’re drowning. We met up cuz school is still there. We hug cuz we keep each other up.

“What the hell do we do now?” My buddy asks, just trying to fill our space with air, just trying to keep his smile bright and his head above water. And I shrug.

“Brownies?” and he laughs becuz we’re both on this island we made together, hoping against hope this pile of dirt will stay afloat

THE END

Original publish year: 2016

(c) Jean M. Hodges

____________________________________________________________________________

SUPPORT MY WORK!

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Being Political, a poem

Poems

Being Political, a poem by Jean M. Hodges

My name is political

Because from the moment we could choose, we’ve been setting our own syllables against checks and balances-

-What will our white neighbors think?-

Of most fun and least ghetto,

As if our own history would seep into our nomenclature and brand us with yet another cross to carry.

My hair is political,

Because it doesn’t match up with the standards of spaghetti strands you fashion on your own head,

But why would clouds match with spaghetti strands,

When they are too busy defying gravity to notice?

My body is political,

Because it used to be bought and sold,

And now that I’m no longer a commodity,

 You’ve been trying to put me to work for free.

My voice is political,

Can’t be too loud or rude or angry,

Because my fury can shake solar systems,

Why you barely know how to keep your own planet under control.

What I make is political,

Because art is deliberate, considerate and universal-

-No wonder you steal from it so much.

My culture is political,

Because it doesn’t fit with yours.

The boxes you try to push us in,

Can’t fit the palaces we’ve built for ourselves.

My life is political

Because

Because

Because

Because

Because, we exist

Because we’ve lost too many to not matter at all

Because we’re here

Because I’m here

Because we’re here and still thriving and not leaving to make room for your hate

My love is political

Because it brings change

Because it divides and makes things grow

And because it terrifies you that we still dare to.

THE END

Original publish year: 2016

(c) Jean M. Hodges

____________________________________________________________________________________________

SUPPORT MY WORK!

Like my work? Buy me a drink! 

KOFI

Want me to drop me a tip and a kind hello? Donate to my Paypal!

PAYPAL

And if you want to support my work long-term, consider donating to my Patreon !

PATREON

It keeps me & my work going! Thank you. Spread the magic!