Annabelle My Child (Madison Holland~Lafayette, LA)

I loved you fiercely
As only an adoptive mother could
But I did not know the extent of my love
Until I had to face the fact that you were gone.
My sweet, bitchy little girl
You whom I recognized from the first moment I saw you
I knew you were mine
And I knew you were my Annabelle
Even though you didn’t see it yet
And refused to even be friendly at first.
I guess that’s when I recognized
That I was your mother
Because I loved you without reciprocation
Waiting patiently until you loved me back.
Maybe you will never understand
My devastation
Upon finding the door wide open that night
But my first reaction was not to wonder
If I had been robbed
Or if any of my stuff was gone
Rather, I looked frantically for you.
The tears were instantaneous
I felt helpless and scared
Afraid you would encounter
Dishonesty or Violence
And I would not be able to protect you.
I ran down the sidewalk calling your name
Thinking it was futile
But unwilling to give up and abandon
The thought of your rescue.
When I heard you respond to me
My heart leapt to my throat
As I gathered you into my arms
And held your scared form close to my body.
I love you forever
Because you are my child
Whether or not you ever understand
Does not matter
But as long as you know I will never stop loving you
Unconditionally.

Comments

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

Louisiana Words Remembers Jorge Arturo

There’s nothing that hurts more than when we lose someone from our Louisiana Words family. But, the beauty of our writing movement is that the words of our loved ones live on with us. On June 20th, 2023, Louisiana Words Allstar, Jorge Arturo, moved on from this world leaving our hearts broken. He was a charismatic and talented human being. Jorge resided in New Orleans, LA and had been active on Louisiana Words for over a year. To honor Jorge’s life and work, we will be sharing his writing and live performances all Summer 2023. Please help keep his spirit alive by sharing his work. We know that Jorge’s words will connect with our readers and we hope to keep his spirit alive. Jorge’s first submission: “The Dog Show” debuted on February 6th, 2022 and is his most successful piece to date. In 2022, Jorge spent 10 weeks in the top with “The Dog Show,” “Weavers,” “They Say Love Kills, This Time It Really Did,” and “If Hell is Real, It Looks Like an Airport.” His la...

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Search This Blog