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I’ve left the city and its intellect-

 

All the ways it knows how to run,

not by man but instinct now;

Its steel and mortar adapted nature.

 

Traffic lights.

Uptown, down, west and east side-

 

Yellow cabs.

The E, the F, the R…

 

The beautiful noise of rushing

corporate hounds:

 

Our fancy lobbies, luncheons, holiday parties…

 

Politics.

 

Law, management, headaches, overtime-

 

Oh the goddamn cash in it all,

that beautiful paper-power!

 

I left because I envisioned peace.

Hope big, live a simpler life in the meantime.

 

Ride on the tails of a dream,

see where it leads…

 

By the ocean, no kidding,

because her waves are telling-

not of stocks and bonds or 401 k’s, but true nature,

the tides of God.

 

Faith in what’s to come, became larger

than myself.

 

And it all began well intended…

 

You create things though that no one sees,

but wish to impact.

 

You shrink to your family and all their needs.

 

Suddenly you’re a near fixture,

voice less important to be heard?

 

People of power and money are taken seriously, heard,

respected even for all the moronic things they may say.

 

Everything inside you shakes,

to feel trapped in that tyranny.

 

Where you’ve been,

what you’ve learned and become, knows better.

 

Still, you give up your waist to the pain,

watch your regretful fingers feed your face numb.

 

Betray yourself, again and again,

giving way to the cursed detriment:

 

Fear that you’ve forgotten yourself…

 

Remember, how you submitted to every one of

your husband’s needs, dreams, wants,

 

and withered-

 

All your pastels ran into black,

your heart up against a cold egotistic wall.

 

But were the matriarch, nurturing, feeding,

building the lives of others,

 

and had the wind knocked-out of  breasts,

by disrespect.

 

The home was love!

Everything lay out in its path:

Meals, fabric, flowers, healing, tenderness…

Was love-

 

And it’s all she wanted.

 

Back when I left the city,

I was contemplating an easier life.

My eyes were young with enthusiasm.

Hands soft and brilliant.

 

Life between grew me weary,

with its many deaths…

taught me to dream about living.

Copyright 2013 – Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

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