Shave

                                                                              


I got a shave
cut it all off.
All of it. Done.
So what?
It's just hair....

They call me brave
but I'm not, not really....

The one who is
is the one who lives
each and every day
in pain, in knowing
that she has one less day
to spend with us here.
Now, that's real.
That's brave.
Just so ya know....

The one who raised me
just the way I am
bold, free, unafraid of
what you think or say,
teaching me that
I am more
than the sum of my parts.
I am more
than the sum of these
little stubbles of hair on my head

Why do you look at me like that?

Don't you see
the glow around me
as I channel her strength to me
and become what she already is
and more.
She's seen, done, and made
more than I'll ever be able to--
not that I'd try to duplicate
or copycat her vibe, her style--
not by a mile!

I have a bit of her in me,
in here, inside, sure,
no longer hiding away
underneath it all
it's raw, it's bare, it's out there, alright.

I favor her, you say,
turn my head, just that way
catch that profile--
I look like her even more
than before, peeking out
from under her cap,
from the pools of my eyes
shimmering, shining bright blue
to hers glittering green
looking past the age, or disease,
to the beauty that is she,
purely she.
Like mother, like daugher, like we.
Love, ME.

Written by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez
March 15, 2011

Comments

  1. MonikaMarch 15, 2011 at 10:34 PM

    You are such the rock star!!!! Beautiful in every way!! love love love you liza!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownMarch 16, 2011 at 1:30 PM

    This is just so touching and beautifully written! The bond between a mom and daughter is always so great! much love to you and mom!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

OK, y'all have been kind enough to "hear me out"& n stuff, so let me know whatcha think, if I've rattled yer cage, voiced a shared thought or concern, or if you're gonna attain Enlightenment upon reading these DEEP THOUGHTS, or if ya think I'm just plumb WACKO--but please be decent in your expression of your sentiments, there's no need to sling mud, unless we're in POTTERY CLASS or at the BEACH! Thanks for reading n stuff...Laters!

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