To Kill a Mother

I'm trying to squeeze in a few minutes. It seems to happen too often that I carry thoughts around that I'd like to deposit here, but as I sit down to type it all out, I loose the thoughts...thoughts can be shy.

And I am shy, so I hide
beneath the weeping willow branches that I stare at in my mind
the tall,wispy Gd art that hangs in contrast to second grade science
where I learned that plants reach up toward the sun.
I cling close to the trunk of the tree, I am comforted by it's immobility
the separateness- the inability to change form by my need to wrap my arms around
but these aren't arms, really, are they?...

Thematic scripts are circling around in my life right now and I'm so deep into the mental change aspect that I wonder if I'm actually still sane. Getting too close, maybe to real changes that are scary...

I dreamed for a week, every night that someone was trying to murder me. I woke up afraid every night. I'm killing off cycles, themes of new beginning, old endings, forgiveness, change, failed family systems and being stuck and identity crisis and someone too mentally close to me that its like a surgery to separate conjoined parts...and nerve damage and tissue loss...or just loss and then sorting and starting over and not mourning the change but embracing the necessary newness of individualization-to kill a mother-this is like the fear of death or birth but not a toll I expected...the price seems high but somehow I sense now that all good is costly.

What will I be on the other end as I wave goodbye to what I love and but can not own.

Continue to untangle these, breaking hearts and strings and ties and know that this is the first of many...of my own deaths...to kill a mother.