
Other Internal Bruises
Three My daughter cries when she falls, gravel stuck in the fissures and mountain ranges of her knee. She brushes off the rock, grimaces, and toddles two steps toward the slide. I think will this pain be enough? I think this is the only way. Seven When I send her marching into school post-shooting I remember the day she was sent to me, blood and water spurting forth, the jellyfish of placenta roiling behind, as if she could not wait to embrace it all, untethered. In carpool, I steel myself for end-of-the-day paper cuts and other more internal bruises. Ten My husband and I watch Planet Earth with our children and even we are amazed by the carnage, like a meteor shower, so extravagant and red and bright. The animal deaths stack up like her learned tally marks in school. One nestling tumbles toward the sea, halting step by halting step toward sure demise. I want to fast forward, but my daughter is enthralled. I settle the pad of my thumb into her skin— it leaves a white mark. My daughter flinches when the penguin loses grip on a slab of ice for the final time. I remember how I lavished each graveled knee with ointment— how I pressed harder when my daughter cried.
5 replies on “Other Internal Bruises”
Wow! Just wow! I always marveled at your ability to stir such emotions with your words. This is amazing, beautifully articulated.
Wow! This is incredible! You are so talented!
These words moved me so much, Briana! And I can so relate. Thank you for sharing this with us!
Brilliant. Briana you are such a gifted writer! So impressed!
Just spell bound! The depth of this poem is endless, really. I love it! I picture ALL that the title represents being comforted with the progressiveness of your words. To me, your words gain strength as the poem flows and leaves me feeling held fast. You captured the ache of motherhood beautifully, Briana. Keep writing.