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THE LIGHTHOUSE

A beacon of light for the weary at sea.

The GPS for the maritime.

A Fresnel lens beaming brightly amongst the deep thick fog of the night.

The heaviness of the torrid waters.

A seafarer’s vision through darkness.

In solitude,

QUO VADIS….

the narrow direction dear Ma’ma prayed for you, as she kneeled each sunrise before Saint Joseph….

or the direct route of our family tragic war boots….

or the steady dependence upon anyone or everyone….

or the avenue of all that shines and glitters….

or the unusual pathway of your vivid daydreams….

DEDICATED TO PHILLIS WHEATLEY, THE POET

the gracefulness of words enveloped into a portrait of capture

a dialect, unfamiliar and foreign

yet with emotion of abandonment tucked in the thorns of my soul,

I recite each line

“Me….don’t know you but willing.”

“You….say, you know me….but no.”

HATE….HATE….HATE….HATE

HATE….it is a volatile fuel that indeed can surge as high as the gentle blue sky

HATE….a foul emotion which can destroy the innocent

HATE….the discrimination language of abomination

HATE….it is an ideology based on the matter of pre-judgement

HATE….it is a learned behavior….it must be taught by someone or something….as we are all born into the world naturally with love beating through our tender hearts

HATE….cries in pain….moans through fear….and loosely engages vile

collectively,

Women

With red lipstick or blue

Jet black hair or gray

A long wool skirt or skinny jeans

President of a major corporation or currently unemployed

Democrat or Republican

Classical music lover or country western fan

Single or a wife with four children

Shattered pieces or a forceful storm

We are the core for some

We are the nucleus for many

We are the love for all

© 2015

Maria Diaz, An Intimate Portrait of a Single Mother

Maria Diaz, An Intimate Portrait of a Single Mother

I became a single mother, for the first time, at the age of 15.

I became a single mother, for the second time, at the age of 16.

I became a single mother, for the third time,

Goodbye Mother

Goodbye Mother, goodbye.

As I stand in front of your coffin, high black gloss with chrome trim, just as you requested, I say

Goodbye Mother, goodbye.

All of the people are long gone.

The priest recited the Lord’s Prayer, just as you requested.

I am a 4th grade teacher

I am a 4th grade teacher….

25 minutes of group reading

30 minutes of constant discipline

20 minutes of intense writing

25 minutes of trying to keep the class quiet

yet the scores are of the utmost importance….

I am a 4th grade teacher….