Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Sunday, October 6, 2024

Para la Madre Diabólica

 She said that my hair
had turned the moon to ash
as if it were hers, a pet cat
mute in the silent sky.

What she meant was
that I had the wrong face
and the wrong voice, always
wandering from its glass case.

I slipped the crescent moon
through my hair like a garland,
then grew it long and wild,
my name at the root and the far ends.
________

for What's Going On? --"Hair"

9 comments:

  1. Superb writing. So harsh to have someone think one has the wrong face. I had some of that growing up. I love the closing stanza. In the end, we are all we were meant to be and that says something about us, my friend.

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  2. No one is meant to stay in a glass case, for sure. Happy she made the moon (and hair and face) her own, despite "la Madre Diabólica." I love "a pet cat mute in the silent sky." I'm so glad you wrote to this prompt, Shay!

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  3. Such an intense and powerful poem - May you always break free from that glass cage - Jae

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  4. Very clever! Intense imagery....especially this: " I slipped the crescent moon through my hair like a garland, " So glad you made it before the deadline over at What's Going On?

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  5. From the title and first stanza I had a feeling mommy dearest was in the tag lines. Such powerful imagery in this Shay! As hurtful and awful as it all had to have been, it certainly has fueled some amazing poems! Although, I think you are a poet soul and it would not have mattered the experiences you started life with. The last stanza is absolutely glorious!

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  6. That closing stanza is so beautiful, offsetting an ugliness that should never be.

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  7. "my name at the root and far ends" -- Hair freedom, moon freedom, imagination and self set free to sparkle on their own terms, cherished by all that is unbound and uncaged. I love how you used the imagery of the moon to seal the deal in the poem, that is, escape the darkness of "la Madre Diabólica."

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  8. I love the last stanza so much as well as the rebel spirit.

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  9. Deceptively simple, yet sharp and clean as a silver dagger. The rhyme is lovely and subtle, and I had to read it twice to get its savor. I especially like the final stanza, with its defiant affirmation, but that takes away nothing from the potency of the others. It can be difficult to write briefly and well, but here you've knocked it out of the park, with not a single word wasted, or a single additional word needed. Fine writing, Shay.

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Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?