For Megan.

A daughter can never fail a mother regardless of place
Mommy's joy will always be upon her daughter's face
In her laughter and in her tears.
Regardless of place, a mother banishes fears.

In shadows and light
In dreams and dawning morn
Mommy's love for her daughter can never be shaken
Can never be torn.

For the countless hours
And the endless days
A bound unbroken these two will always share
A love, regardless of place, remains.


I wrote this for an ex-student who had lost her mother. I thought of if I had to go through that one day, I won't be as young as she is. Or..the day my daughter loses me. And then I think of the one stupid thing I did well after she was born. Some time after Last Halloween. In my early years...I worked. I finished HS. And I worked some more. I worked for crappy pay. I got my papers to stay in this country and I worked for a great amount of money. I made more then than Chris does now. Hourly. Plus bonuses. I was single, on my own, and loving it. I lived, to work, to make my money, go out, have a good time and go home to do it all again. And with all that...I drank a great deal. But it never affected me. I never got drunk to the point of not remembering anything, I never met with strangers, never kissed a stranger. lol. I know.
I was so active, and when I went out it was mostly dancing, so the alcohol was sweated out of my system, the anger I felt almost all the time was vented at work. No hang overs, no ...bad repercussions. It was a healthy lifestyle. As I got older, my job changed (not through my own desire) and I ended up with an office job. The anger remained within me, no port to release. The alcohol remained in me, because we never went dancing. ...I had our child, and it all remained. No office job, and the little I did drink, came back ten fold. The anger raged. And the alcohol didn't help at all. There were nights that just 2 shots would do me in, or beer. And I would forget. Everything would be a total blackout. And the next day I'd have to listen to the shit I had said, or done, and embarassed myself, or him, or us both with something foolish. Thankfully, it was never frequent.
And that one night, I lost it, and .... it was the one night I completely lost myself and was about to finish myself in the bath room, huge blade to my wrist. With no ...energy to slice it. Just...spurts to hack at the tiny limb.
I had apparently gotten angry because talk of marriage had come up. I can hear it clear as a bell "If you want to be married, you're with the wrong person. I'll never marry you."
And the years...YEARS of ...everything I endured for him, with him, without him, the things I found out, the things he'd said, done, everything I had to put up with, came flooding back....and I released. The shots of Captain Morgan made sure my mouth had no cap, and I let go.
Stomping from room to room, yelling....angry...hurt...so hurt...
The words shot out so muddled and I ...he said I said things about our daughter that were irrelevant to her, but said nonetheless. And words...hurt. I know that first hand.
Words can't be erased.
Words can't be forgotten.
And words are rarely, if ever, forgiven.
I know that very well.