New Haiku Chapbook: Spring's Tepid Breath
Whenever I have a pen between my fingers scribbling my thoughts on a piece of paper or my hands are dancing out a scene on my keyboard--my body feels energized. The empty spaces are filled up. Writing is very therapeutic to me.
Some people need a pill, a drink, or some other kind of narcotic to get them through the angst of life. Some people even put themselves in the middle of a sexual encounter to block out the troubles. What I need is some kind of writing mechanism to help me sort through my emotions.
When my mother passed away in 2011, it took me by surprise even though she had been ill for years. She was a diabetic and suffered with High Blood Pressure. But three months prior to her death, the fragility of her health became very apparent. First she had a stroke, then a heart attack (which I played God and chose to put her on Life Support). In between these two occurrences, there was the undiagnosed Uterine Cancer probability. Eventually, God stepped in and regained control back and ended my mother’s suffering.
During all of this, I had to be the strong one and the ’organizer.' I had to divide my Stage Managerial skills between my mother/wife duties and my daughter duties. I felt like I was wearing a pair of shrunken maternity pants (my responsibilities forever growing and becoming uncomfortable). Writing is the ‘birth of my closure.’ Either it splits me open and comes out easy with tears or it pushes me to hysterics. Whichever way, it brings me a new life.
Spring’s Tepid Breath is a collection of twenty-one poems that delve into the emotional insecurities I felt after the death of my mother. The collection begins with a brief look into my mother’s life and death. It then takes you on a self-explorative journey of my reaction to my mother’s passing. Each poem glimpses into the state of mind and body I was in: the feeling of being orphaned; my deteriorating health; marital/family problems, and abandonment.
My mind erupts