Monsoon and Then Some

Monsoon is here.

With a sickly thick heat that’s threatening to pry wide open the dent in my head.
The dent you gave me all those years ago.
Your words were like fists to my mind.
You were always first in line to flick away my innocence like a pest on your shoulder.
I know you think I hate you more than I hate him.
Truth is I do not hate either of you.
I fight hard everyday to never let your bad out weigh your good.

I understand that not all the misery the two of you allowed to manifest in my life was of your own making.
I understand that you crawled out of a dirt poor life of humility on a belly full of stolen food and desert grass. Silently following on the heels of a nineteen year old alcoholic savior who filled your womb with my life under heavens stars on the backside of the killer kern river.
It was you who first pressed my new born mouth to your unyielding seventeen year old breast

It was you who placed the tiny garments on my body that my nineteen year old father stole from a rich mans house.
It was you who walked the floors of the second story garage apartment with me at night while an old retired movie lion wept in his cage beneath our feet.

It was you who stood watch over me while I recovered from losing a husband to insanity, my womb six months gone with his seed.

It was you who gave me the same tiny stolen garments to place upon my own first born child.

I understand all too well that life's spell is not always at our command.