Songs of Anisha
“Daughters and Betrayal,”
by Abigail George
Her flowers seem to glow
from within. My favourites
are the purple blooms. They seem to stare at me. Hibiscus. Jasmine.
Seem to want to know
what I am waiting for.
Don’t I want to go in for the kill
When my mother and I are
arguing. Don’t I want to tell her
that she’s an orphan now.
That I am not her daughter
anyway. I had a second
Mother who made up for
the mother love and attention my biological
Mother never gave me. All those
Years I took it until I couldn’t
take it anymore. My own mother was a tyrant. I read
Somewhere even Kafka’s father was
A tyrant. A mothers and daughter relationship
Can be electric. Sparks flying on a
Bad day. The ‘roof ’ on fire. Tiny suns
Exploding into view. I was schooled
Early on ‘how not to love’ and to ‘walk
away’. Volcanoes and paper can also conduct
A kind of electricity. I have insight into
Traumatic incidents. The frangipani
Comes to life in her hands. It comes
To life in my soul. She planted it there.
‘There’ that goes without saying. Every
Day of my life it dances out of my reach.
My heart is touch and go like a heatwave.
I know why. It’s because she never
Says she loves me. It’s because she never
Reads my poems or essays. She’s a
Love song made up of a million different
Phrases. Languages I cannot speak.
Found in journals for the broken. So, I
Am new light and she is old dark, so
What of it, right? Other daughters did
Not grow up with a mother. I had two
44