Writing Wings For You

Marie Lukasik Wallace ~ # I LIVE Poetry – I'm passionate about life and writing and all things creative and poetic!


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Happy Women’s Day – ‘She is a girl’

forgottenmeadows

Don’t clip her wings,

for she wants to fly,

Higher, than the reach of your eyes,

Don’t…

Don’t break her courage,

for she dares to dream,

awake from a past full of screams,

Don’t…

Don’t put her beneath your notice,

for she is a woman,

a mother , a sister, a daughter, who insists,

on being heard,

Don’t…

For as history has shown,

and future will see,

she is beyond grasp,

she is free…

She will learn what there is to learn,

and she will fly in the clear blue skies,

She will rise after each fall,

and she will conquer all that lies,

in her path…

She will not stay under your oppression,

but please do not torture her with your brutality,

she is stronger than you will ever know,

but set her free, in the name of humanity,

for she is a girl, and she can do everything,

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Hello My Daddy

Good morning my daddy.   On the anniversary of your death, I write this to you in honor of the poem we got to write together.  I remember how excited I was about finding a way we could talk and share more intimately through a mode you loved best.  I couldn’t wait to write more poems with you.  Later that week, you had your stroke.

I love this picture.  Carole calls it the goodbye picture…but today, it’s the Hello My Daddy picture.  Heard your EMS sirens today…so I know you’re awake.  I love you.daddy and me      20160301_072054_resized

I REMEMBER

I remember when you were just a vault…no affection…little talking…always about you.

I remember the first time I asked you if you could do the Father’s Legacy project.  You were apprehensive, but you said, “I could probably do that.”

I remember asking the first question and held my breath for the answer.  It was a simple question like “What is your favorite color?”  You answered two questions that day.

I remember when you would peak over my shoulder to make sure the questions I asked were in the book.  We were building trust.

I remember the first time you were vulnerable and told me your angel story.  This time you held your breath, until I said, “I believe in angels too Daddy.”   I felt your sigh of relief as your story, held in for about sixty years, was believed for the first time.

I remember coming to visit you in the summers as you told me about all the junk in your junkyard and learning why they were your treasures and realizing you were an artist like me.

I remember our last summer together savoring every detail….getting lost with you and loving every minute.  Our last Father’s day, making it special with a sheet for a table cloth and wild sunflowers from your backyard. It was so special that I will always remember it, but you couldn’t remember it the next day.

I remember writing this “I remember poem with you”

and then it all went black…and there was no more remembering.