A Well, Not an Onion

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The weather, the rain, is forcing me to think back. I hate it when that happens. 

Because of the way my life is now I am sometimes slightly shocked to remember how it was. I am surprised when I read an old poem I wrote, detailing the measure of my feelings from back then. Shrek says ogers are onions. I hear that on my children's dvd and I nod to myself.  I am a well. A dee, deep well. I shudder when I think of what's down there...

The Daughter

Am not a flower

And I am not the thorn of your rose

Am not your lover

This is not the way the ballad goes 

Am not the answer

And I cannot bother with more lies

Am not the cancer

And I am not the babe who sweetly cries

Bring to me

All your misery

For I am not the sunshine that you see

Hold me down

This your holy water

Cause I am not the sun, but the daughter

Am not a story

And I am not your moment of regret

Am not a warning

This too I’m sure you will forget


Am not the data 

I am not merely DNA

am not the pattern

and I am not there when you pray

Bring to me

All the misery

For I am not the sunshine that you seek

Hold me down

In unholy water

Cause I’m not the sun, but the daughter 

am not your crisis

And I am not the secret to be told


Am not a player

I never learned how to be so cold


Am not the mistress

I am not the reason for your lie


Am not returning

I have already made up my mind

You have brought me

So much misery

And I tried to be the sunshine that you seek

I am swimming through 

Your unholy water 

I am not the sun but the daughter.

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