The small assassin. The mortician's fingerprints. The historian's blindness. The scribe's untidy hand. The ferry over a Washington Sound. The small plastic pony with the bright blue eyes. The bottle of kiwi and strawberry pop... The grilled cheese fancy sandwich shop. The days of blood and iron will The years of nurture and frying pig swill. The rain shower under the blaze of a Tokyo haze: The burn of summer. The best of worst days. All of these I offer up to you: My distance is closing The race? Run... almost at least, Yet I knew how to battle and learnt To treasure momentary peace. Sweet baby in a duckie suit Sleeping in his cot, silent and cute. Little girl with the torn jeans Knees scuffed, eyes swollen Sickened. Lost... Singing by my side about buying Mercedes Benz cars and color tvs While she sat and rocked upon My motherly devoted shattered knees. Little boy gone fishing - tears for a carp... Small Bear sitting so Angelic That he should be holding a harp! Salmon furikake, tuna rice balls Jagabee chips and children's halls. The foil balloon that deflated in the corner. The pink little cart with the plastic forever food. My plans for brightening all Pig's murderously bad moods. Sleeping on the floor like pandas in a huddle. All those kisses on little stub noses All those soft little cuddles. All those times I walked the street at night Hiding from yet another fight. All those eyes, blackened and split All those lips who spoke no evil All those days I was beaten, kicked and hit All that knowledge that love does suffer Rather than flee. All that strength that I had once in me. All the problems fixed and disaster averted All the times the earth shook its bones And made me cry and shudder. All the times I was held to the mercy of the phone. All those times I nursed yet another broken bone. I preserve them in amber Like a long dead tarantula. To say I existed and I fought the good fight To say I never bailed and I not once Hid my love from my children's sight. To say that I duck and wove like a prize fighter To say my burden was heavy: But that I made my children's lighter. All the joy and all the pain Of living a life in the light of Another's shame. All those unfair judgements Every single hateful condemnation While my Man flew free and sat in His protective home nation. All the times I longed to escape and flee. All the times we ran. Every time he found me. All the songs I sang All the happiness I faked. All the love I gave All the love I take. I hold them up upon this platter: This is a very silent matter. Mother Farm trips with hungry goats Ice cream parlors. Sweet little trio in-jokes Cherry tree park picnics, coffee shop hours, Cinema days and the positive power Of thinking I could make everything right, And I'd always be loved and I'd never lose My mother-grip tight hold on the future Knowing that I lost. Knowing that I lose her. Knowing that I saved him And that he allowed me to Be grateful for his mercy Which he did not need to show me. Knowing that winning partly is My pain to bear only. How I love you though I expose my pain! I know you know my endless crying shame. All the unfairness, all the indignity All the times I shouted right into the sea All those bitches and all those bastards; All those threats and all my masters: I have no need to call their names They know who they are They know who it is they made. But enough of that ugly self pity The sky is blue, the day is pretty And once I thought I had a chance To really set my feet down on this Earth and spin and leap and dance! It is almost a paltry sum this Sum of my everything. It turned out to be Not very much all, though It seems to be evolving. But there is a Boy There is a smile, And I succeeded wholly, At least for a little while. And there is the fact that I guess I flew Though I was born To fall Both in love And into horror's thrall.