Dad's last goodbye !

I don't remember much
of his firm young hands
that threw me in the air
as a little girl

the stern hands with which
he taught me how to
hold a screwdriver
and open gadgets

I remember his dry,flaky
frail old hands
that held mine
to get up and sit down

the cold rough hands
in which he delicately held
my little one
every time she hugged him

the unsure hand
that waved to me
from the car's window

his last goodbye !

 

Voice

My voice is all I had                                                       
even that I was taken away
and beaten into
so many we's
by the chains of tradition
that hold tight


and I was scared
REBEL was a bad label
so I bargained that voice
to find an insensitive
and eerie silence of peace
the peace that never lasted long

The newly trimmed "I" for me
was difficult to fit in
like a gaudy dress
two sizes small

those dreams of flying
of love being the wind
in my wings
flew away

and when the wings
in the cage could make
no more noise

I reclaimed my voice
because that's all I have
to give to my wounds
the balm on my tales !!