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Culture March 1, 2022
This piece is part of the 2022 "Stories Matter" collection.
Photo by engin akyurt onAs the morning fog curled into her bedsheets, Mona dreamt of a life of love, happiness, and true fulfillment in marriage and motherhood, a place where her arms would never be empty of children and her heart throbbed with love for the man at her hip. It was a world where she could be the mother she always wanted to be, not the one she was forced to become.
When she rose from her bed, alone, Mona was unsure if she fully understood what true love was. Did she ever truly love her husband if she had the strength to walk away? Would leaving her mistreatment make her stronger? Maybe she loved him once, despite his flaws, until the weight of motherhood slowly fell on her, stoning her until there was nothing left of the woman she was before except the children she bore at twenty-four and the remnants of a broken marriage.
With nimble hands that craft beauty,
Fingers woven between falling strands
That grasp tightly for her life
Her children
In a state of settlement
Maimed by the thrashing current
It guides her body to new soil
Shielded from the surface
Until the dazzling figure is thrashed for refinement
Today, the mirror did not look kindly back at her. It looked deranged, worn, and tired of accepting a love so cruel. She was glass waiting to break under the weight of her unequal partnership. This life was lacking foundation; she needed a new beginning to glue her pieces together. All that prevented her cracks from shattering and her bosom beating was the prospect of a real love somewhere in the world waiting for her and the connection to her offspring.
Mona knew that she would need to search deeply and quickly within herself for the will to leave her husband, but the floor turned to marsh, her feet felt like stone and she did not know how to keep herself from sinking further into this conception of a home. If she didn’t leave now she never would. She would be stuck in this deranged illusion just like her mother, waiting too long to escape and never knowing what love could become when the family feels whole.
The ring
A momento screaming on the table
As a mark of nobility
A goddess blooms from the ranks
Was the prospect of happiness worth sneaking away with her children without a whisper of suspicion or would they despise her for it? Her children’s best interest was at the forefront of her decisions and the love for her offspring surpassed the terror of being a woman alone, but there was no way to be certain that the choice to leave would benefit anyone’s life other than her own.
If she made the mistake of marrying another drunken man, her new beginning would serve as a devastating reminder that she tore her family apart just to relive her life as it was. The only difference between her new life and the old would be a deeper heartache without a second chance. This thought threatened her with the possibility of an emotional chasm that could split her from the gift of her womb forever.
In a territory unknown
Where bottles line the sand
Shards pierce her skin
Challenge her to stride on them
With her lovelings clinging to her back
As she silently paced the house in an effort not to wake her husband, she dug to her core and brought every ounce of courage and love for her children to the forefront of her passions. She ran, passed the walls lined with wedding photos, eyed her husband’s empty bottles stuffed between cushions, and frantically packed her bags with everything she would need for her and her children’s survival on the mission to their safe haven, her childhood homeland where she first learned to love without fear, Missouri.
She glides in vibrance
Spiked with a crown of freedom
Lining her back in pointed strength
She blossoms with newfound courage
A conch with no burrow
Inching headfirst off a jagged cliff
In prospection of oblivion
As she ran, she felt as if bits of her bone began to fracture one after the other up to her heart. The smell of coffee wafted through her nose, it blurred her swelling eyes reminding her of the days spent laughing over coffee and listening to the radio buzz in bitter-sweet matrimony. She had to gather herself, piece by piece, and stay whole for her children. This is the mother she would be, dedicated, a guardian to her angels.
With the space between her bosom, beaten
Pounding with stouthearted fortification
It propels her forward
It is her savior
Rising from the hot lashing kingdom
She is honed for battle.
Madi Oty is a young writer from Morgan Hill, California. Since her childhood, she has been fascinated with poetry and the art of telling a story. As a child, Madi would write stories of her own and recite them to her family during dinners. Now, her poem The Bean Masher is published in Zaum Magazine and she hopes to continue to touch people’s lives through her work.
Now seventy-nine years old, Mona is able to reflect and share special moments from her life that have made her the woman she is today. With her beauty, wit, and charisma, Mona continues to live life to the fullest just as she did in her twenties. After facing love, loss, and grief, Mona still has the most important thing to her, her children and her grandchildren. Today, these are her biggest blessings.
