(Family Tree)

Author: T. Lee

The Women Who Raised Me

1.

My grandmother is a half

of a woman

I love both halves,

the one she is allowed

and the one I will never know

Think my grandparents love

each other,

or must have

once...

but Mostly they just

co-exist.

her beautiful large

body pressed

into a corner

to allow

full range

For His Anger

She is so much

and there were times I saw that

southern eyes a-sparkle

Cheese and crackers

Hot Breakfast every

morning

the same wardrobe

in 7

different

colors

Sweet and sassy lady

Stern and proper and

the old fashioned way-

with more love for her

gay brother

than Dad

ever had

for his son

Yeah, she looks real

Unapologetic

Stubborn/Strong

Authentic

& she is all

those things...

Still–

I know there are parts

of her she learned

to zip up

winter coats

for the woman

she could Never

–fully be

Sending her love to me

in morse code

Because her husband

hates

the

idea of

forgiveness

2.

I have a grandmother that is

a whole woman &

then some!

thinks she has to be

& do & know & feel it all

thinks she has something

to prove

at one point, she did &

I see it–

in the way she lines

her Singer,

everything just-so

for

the perfect quilt–

she rarely got to choose

when she

would Sew

her family back

together again...

She has seen so much

betrayal from those

she gave what she could

sacrificed so much of her Life

her Body

her Money

Her Trust

to have

family

act as stranger to her

again & again,

a twisted ferris wheel of

treachery

Lost everyone &

then some

Everything she knew...

so many

owe so much to her

& did so much

dastardly

in return !

I get that stubborn

southern pride

from Her–

I learned that “fool me once, shame on

you” mantra and the

hatred of from-scratch cooking

we both had Dads that

chose the bottle

Both had moms that died

–Real slow

I worry she can never let go

of the hurt

(I worry that is hurting her more

than the hurt itself)

The grass grows longer each year

but the stories remain the same

I want to hold her.

I want to shake her

I want to Show Her

she is allowed not just to curse but

to weep

There’s no need to be Strong

(Anymore)

I fear that she will die

with a bitterness that she does

not deserve

I fear that she is too proud to

ever achieve what she

keeps denying she wants:

Reconciliation

Not for his sake,

but–

if she must leave!

I want my

grandmother to go

knowing she was loved

&

knowing

(for however little/much it’s

worth)

he was sorry

3.

Knew a mother with so

many earrings I would lose count,

would

ask her to tell me again

exactly how many hoops

went up and down

those ears–

& she always would!

one by one

with a smile

I am so much !

To many, I am

too much

She always had time

She always

Made it

I learned feminism

complex identity

and basically every

good TV Show

from her

we had that

kind of relationship where

we were so different for so long

but ! i kept trying

to find her

to be with her

to show her I was !

trying

( I Am Still Trying )

When we would argue

it often boiled down

to this:

“I tell everyone

they’re wrong

about you”

And to her, she is saying

I AM YOUR FIERCEST ALLY

And to me, I am hearing

EVERYONE THINKS YOU ARE WRONG

&

I AM THE ONLY ONE BY YOUR SIDE

When she passed

I

didn’t speak to anyone

for a couple

years

I figured I would say the

wrong thing

plus,

I figured:

No one

wanted to

hear

She taught me a lot of

Good things

To love, to be gentle, to

be patient

She also taught me

( to be quiet )

Not on purpose, but

In sickness

she became

a ghost

Fought it all

she could

Every way she knew how

Nonstop doing & getting

& being & loving until the end

until the haunted became

a Haunt

she had so much to scoop

hollow

& they did

I saw it

Like leeches, the men

in her family

took

from her. the way the

sharks smell fresh

blood

man knew

this would be Easier

after a Wound

She lost everything

Her friends,

her house,

her hobbies

even took her cell phone

as if she was still

a child

his child

someone he provided

for intimately

as opposed to

an adult with an oxygen tube

–with kids that

needed

to eat

& not just Him

also

My dad

some say he

did worst of all

I thought for

so long

that was not his

permanent residence

that in time he would

move out

now I am afraid

he built his house there

next to Misery

perpendicular to Pity

adjacent to Shame

& Just Behind

Self-sabotage !

( I fought for him )

like my mom for me

but I was a child ! with

depression &

an

attention disorder

& he ?

was 45 with money

to spend

The Men Who Raised Me.

1. Me

2. Men in Martial Arts uniforms. Twice a week, then none.

T. Lee is a southern sweetheart and proud poet. He is a lover & fighter, openly trans, and historically a problem child. Theodore’s debut poetry collection: gendered lullabies (Alien Buddha Press 2024), was written in honor of his deceased mother. Their paperback debut is currently available on Amazon and at The Roasted Bookery store and site.