“Snap-beans in a Wooden Bowl”(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley
“Snap-beans in a Wooden Bowl” (c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley
snap-beans in a wooden bowl and tears on her cheeks my mother’s sorrow exorcised by the rite of working hands the ritual of silent contemplation as evening sun gilded her world in holy ephemera her safe place ensconced in her own sacred light her garden her universe
the weeds she hoed during languid summer days of sun-burned neck and aching back how many belonged to her how many the memories of fear and violence in desperate need of eradication her rough ancient hoe her crucifix against my father’s rage her blisters turned to calluses turned to armor her fingers bent with age and arthritis yet strong enough to hold herself together day by day to contain the tears the anger the horror
corn silk her hair was corn silk as she merged with row upon row of papery whispering stalks her naked feet rooting into earth deeply deeply where her spirit lived safe in cool moist soil a fertile loam a secret energy regenerating her scarred soul daily only to be shattered nightly the cycle of the seasons her heart always an autumn heart forever offering harvest to all, then burned to the ground without a thought as my father’s winter approached
I passed her one evening as she sat snapping beans in a wooden bowl her bare feet beagle-draped farm cats lurking amid squash blossoms the westering sun haloing her tired face and she gazed at the distant horizon staring at the empty world a faraway smile nearly touching her eyes as a tear fell among broken beans in her lap and she looked at me then and her smile was terrible an anguish I’d never seen before and I knew that she knew there was nothing either of us could do
Author’s bio:
Mike is a deaf writer/photographer who lives in rural southwest Colorado. His love of nature shines through his poetry and photography, both of which he uses to make sense of his world. His blog–Silent Pariah.
Michelle Ayon Navajas (born June 23, 1976) is a Filipino poet, writer, and educator. She is a Best-Selling international Poet known for her books reaching the #1 spot within days of their release. Her 8th poetry book, “I Am In Itself Poetry In The Dark,” went straight to the top of both the best-sellers list and new releases on Amazon on short notice. Her 7th poetry book, “It Ain’t Winning If Without You,” went straight to the best-sellers list on Amazon in less than 24 hours of release by pre-orders alone and eventually became the number Poetry Book on Amazon India on its actual release day, soon after the book rose to the best- sellers list as well in all other Amazon Markets worldwide.
Currently, Michelle holds the title of having 4 books published in a row to have made it to Amazon’s Best-Sellers List ("I Will Love You Forever, Too,” “After Rain Skies, 2nd Edition,” “It Ain’t Winning If Without You,” and “I Am In Itself Poetry In The Dark”) and 3 books on Amazon’s #1Hot New Releases/New Releases ("I Will Love You Forever, Too,” “It Ain’t Winning If Without You,” and “I Am In Itself Poetry In The Dark”.)
Her poetry appeared in several international literary magazines and anthologies such as Spillwords NYC, MasticadoresUsa, and MasticadoresIndia. Her poems “Holding Hands” was voted as Spillwords Publication of the Month for November 2021 and “Love Happens” was voted as Spillwords Publication of the Month for December 2022.
She is also part of the award-winning ensemble of authors in two Poetry Anthologies, that are both Amazon Best-Sellers: Hidden In Childhood and Wounds I Healed.
Graduated with a Master of Education majoring in English in the Philippines (University of San Agustin, Iloilo City). Michelle was a former college professor, teaching literature, speech & oral communication, creative writing, drama, and theatre arts. She is also a graduate of Mass Communications major in Journalism (Centro Escolar University, Manila).
Michelle is active in her writing profession and works as a freelance creative writer.
Follow her online:
www.michnavs.wordpress.com
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77 comentarios en ““Snap-beans in a Wooden Bowl”(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley”
Mike, I was in tears when I was reading this poem when you submitted, and reading it again this time broke my heart knowing that someone had to go through such harrowing experience in life. No woman is deserving of such.
Thank you Mike for this sad but beautifully written poem.
Thank you so much for publishing this piece, Michelle. It has profound meaning for me. You’re right, of course–no one should have to endure domestic violence. I did everything I could to protect her. She was so strong, but it hurt her so deeply, too. Thank you for your kindness and empathy, my friend. And thank you for this opportunity to share my mom’s memory with your readers.
Me too.. I’ve read it several times now. And my heart breaks. What they don’t see, what many never get to see.. is this pain that is lived, endured to the end.
Mikey has just delivered a most potent, poignant piece of prose. Wow. 🥺
Thanks, Nigel. This one brings back a lot of memories, many of them soul-crushing, yet some beautifully poignant, as well. I’ll never forget my mom sitting in her garden in the summer evenings as the farm dogs and cats frolicked about. That was her domain, her safe place. I hold onto those memories so tightly.
I appreciate your kind words, amigo. Truly grateful for your friendship and presence. 😊
Beautifully written. I especially love the profound metaphor: “regenerating her
scarred soul daily
only to be
shattered nightly
the cycle of the seasons”
Kindest thanks, Melissa. I’m truly sorry to know you can relate to this poem. No one should ever have to suffer like this. I appreciate your support so much, and I’m grateful for your thoughtful words. Thanks a bunch for reading. 😊
Mike, I get stressed & angry when I hear about abuse of another person, there is really nothing worse. Not that I endured abuse but someone very close to me did & whilst all is okay now, reading this & seeing stories in the press make me weep. 🙏
Thank you Ashley for reading Mike here. It is truly distressing to know that someone somewhere is going through abuse. We pray that our worlds will one day make a difference.
I understand the feeling, Ashley, and I agree with you wholeheartedly. Even one incident of abuse is one too many. There’s always collateral damage, too–fall-out that can destroy children when they witness this sort of thing among their parents. Everyone ends up suffering. It’s incredibly tragic.
Thank you for your kindness and empathy, my friend. I’m sorry this poem upset you, and I’m sorry a dear loved one of yours experienced this horror, too. I appreciate your kind support always, good sir. Thanks so much for stopping by. 😊
So touching Mike, I was crying by the end. You always capture life happenings so beautifully. The good the, the bad, I can appreciate them all through your eyes.
Kindest thanks, Michelle. I’m sorry this one brought you to tears. Your constant support means so much to me, my dear friend. Thanks so much for accompanying me on my poetic journeys. I appreciate you.
Dearest Mike, it seems your work has the same effect on many people that it always does on me. You write from the core and it is so profoundly formidable. Your words cut deep, written with such fervent emotion that I read your words and I am remarkably touched. As many have mentioned the tears drizzle upon my cheeks. This one too has memories for me as I shelled many a field pea on the swing with my mom when she was not drunk. Those were good hours, and also happy ones. It is amazing to me that there are so memories we share, different yet the same in many ways. I was especially touched by these words and you painted such a vivid picture of your mom.
«how many the memories of fear and violence in desperate need of eradication her rough ancient hoe her crucifix against my father’s rage her blisters turned to calluses turned to armor«
Thank you Mike, I am so grateful and feel privileged every time I get to read your work, it is brilliant. I get completely lost in the moment you paint for us, and find myself reading it again and again. Sending you my love and gratitude for sharing so much of yourself. I know it is not easy to share our pain. Thank you Mich for publishing this here on MasticadoresPhilippines. Melissa, I too, am so sorry that you relate to this piece. You are helping people with your sharing. This collaboration with Mich and Nigel has been so successful. Thank you Nigel also. Mike I send you my love, and my prayers always my treasured friend. 🌹
Thanks so much, Joni. You’re always so kind in your appraisals. The parallels are uncanny at times, eh? I used to love fresh peas from the garden even though I disliked most veggies. Our gardens were pretty big, and my mom loved spending time out there in the mornings and evenings. The corn silk part of the poem is interesting because her hair didn’t turn gray as she aged, it turned into the color of corn silk. Ransom strangers would often comment on Mom’s hair, complimenting her on it’s unusual hue. She really got a kick out of that.
This poem is incredibly sad, of course, and my mom endured much more than she should have. Everyone suffered. I’m in my 14th year of counseling now because of all of this, still trying to find my way out of the past. I did the best I could to protect her. I believe she’s finally at peace now, and that’s comforting.
Thanks again, my friend, for your kind support. I know you understand a lot of what I write about, and I appreciate your insights and encouragement so much. Here’s wishing you and Scott a wonderful weekend. Much love to both of you from Colorado. 😊
Mike, your words allow me to see your dear mother through the eyes of her child, now a man. Remarkably, you also speak so eloquently in your mother’s voice that I feel that tear run down my own cheek into the bowl of broken snap beans. That is mastery. ❤️❤️❤️🙏
Many thanks, my friend. I’m so grateful for your support and kindness. I appreciate your compassionate insights and empathy. Thanks so much for reading this poem.
The sorrow, the pity, the pain I felt as I read this is quite excruciating. Carefully chosen diction and vivid descriptions. Tonight, I weep for her. She was strong, resilient, indefatigable. She faced it all and when she went down, closed her eyes into eternity, I knew she had accepted her fate. Too sad for me yet. May she forever rest in peace. That was a tough time for you, Mike. I’m glad you emerged strong and willing to carry on with life. Bright candles be lit everywhere for her.
Thanks, my brother. You’ve honored my mom with your beautiful words, and that means so much to me. Thanks for your kindness and for always being so supportive and encouraging. Your friendship is invaluable. I appreciate your stopping by to read and comment. All the best to you, my friend.
Feel most welcome, my brother. And for you kind words, I say thank you too. Always a real pleasure reading your works. They are interesting because they come from your heart.
I had tears running straight into that bowl as I read this piece, Michael. (nice to make your acquaintance 🙇🏽♀️)
To live like that is unfair to Mom and everyone in this planet.
“a secret energy regenerating her scarred soul daily”
Your mom took it in and only when the pain was impossible to contain let it just lay there as testament.
“her heart always an autumn heart forever offering harvest to all,”
Only a poet can describe another human the way you describe Mom. It’s beautiful:
“her hair was corn silk
“her naked feet rooting into earth
“the westering sun haloing her tired face
And It saddens me too. Because though I don’t know your mother, I know this image.
Your mom was a girl full of dreams and a loving heart (I can tell) that never imagined nor deserved a life like that. And that man was her beloved who was supposed to protect her. Unbelievable.
Unlike your grandmother (Im making an ass of myself here when I assume this “forgive”)—unlike your grandmother who raised your father, your mother raised a compassionate son. Attuned to kindness. Ready to discern abuse. Many times though such sons as your mother raised, cannot act on their mothers’ defense: that only serves to aggravate the situation for the mothers.
But that this is still the case in this day and age of smart people like us… God help us!
Yours is a poem I wish to share. Let me reblog it at some point. Please. Will backlink if on the blog. If on newsletter it will show as visitors (perhaps 50) to your blog. Either way, you can rest assured I’ll give proper attributes. Your poem is beyond my capacities as a poet. Bless you and so glad you shared.
Thanks. Later… sending hugs and blessings.
Thanks so much, Selma, and it’s nice to meet you too. I tried responding earlier but my comment didn’t post, alas… Your compassionate and in-depth appraisal of this poem really moved me. The subject matter is so fraught with horrible memories of fear and violence and hyper-vigilance and isolation and hopelessness. You’re right–my mom deserved better. We all did.
Please feel free to reblog this one. It’s such a kind gesture, and I appreciate it. I plan on posting this poem on my own blog in a couple of days, so you could reblog from there or from here (if it’s okay with Michelle). I’m honored that you wish to share this poem, especially since I’m well aware of your gorgeous poetry, so it really means a lot to me.
Thanks again for your kindness, Selma. I’m truly grateful, and I appreciate it so much. I’m so glad you enjoyed this one. 😊🙏
🥹 i had to pause. i almost didn’t finish reading it. every word, every line is the play button of my memories of domestic abuse 🥹
”how many the memories of fear and violence in desperate need of eradication her rough ancient hoe her crucifix against my father’s rage her blisters turned to calluses turned to armor”
the anguish in her smile is a memory no child should ever witness. it flips the switch. more than once i thought “if we (kids) weren’t here, would you have left him?” a question i never had the courage to ask.
”she looked at me then and her smile was terrible an anguish I’d never seen before and I knew that she knew there was nothing either of us could do”
thank you, Michael for sharing this… (my tears aren’t willing to stop running🥹)
Thank yo so much, Scarlet, for your kind and thoughtful words. I’m terribly sorry that you’re familiar with this sort of thing. From a child’s perspective, it causes us to feel guilt, that perhaps we’re the reason for the violence, and that can lead to self-hatred and all sorts of problems. I used to beg my mom to leave my dad, divorce him, just get all of us away from him, but she was afraid. As a kid, I didn’t understand battered wife syndrome, all I knew was I had to be her protector, on guard at all times, and willing to risk my own life to save hers. And you’re right–it does flip a switch in a child’s mind. My childhood ended around age seven because of domestic violence. I developed PTSD and major depression and severe chronic insomnia and anxiety issues because of what took place at home growing up. I’ve spent fourteen years in counseling trying to fix what’s broken, and I’m not sure if I can ever fix it. Yet, what my mom endured was so much worse.
She’s at peace now, having left this world in 2015. She’s no longer in pain, and that’s a comfort. But I miss her, and I regret I couldn’t make it stop when I was young.
Thank you again for your compassion and thoughtfulness, Scarlet. I’m sorry this brought you to tears due to sorrowful memories. I appreciate your sharing, and for taking time to read and reach out. We’re survivors. Wishing you the very best, my friend.
Mike, i am truly sorry that you and your mom had to endure such a terrible experience from the man, who is supposed to love and protect you and your mom. It angered me to read stories like yours. I don’t understand how a man could possibly hurt a helpless woman, much more the one he promised to love and to hold forever. 🥺🥺🥺
Thanks, Michelle. It’s such a strange and complicated dynamic. There are plenty of men who come from disastrous homes like my dad was raised in who don’t carry on the dysfunction and violence, so even though my dad came from a violent home, at some point he decided to pursue violence himself. He was an adult, making his own choices, and he chose to beat his wife and terrorize his kids. I’m so thankful I’m not like him. My mom raised me to be kind and compassionate and to respect women, and I’m so grateful to her for that. My dad died in 2017, so his legacy of violence has come to an end. I’m not sure if that’s a properly satisfying resolution–it certainly can’t erase his choices and actions–but at least he can’t hurt anyone anymore.
Your kindness is very much appreciated, Michelle. Thank you so much.
I applaud you Mike for choosing to be different and for putting an end to the culture of abuse and violence in your family. I am so blessed to have a very kind and compassionate father. And that’s why it breaks my heart to know some kids never had the same kind of a dad as mine. And so, I promise that, i may not totally eradicate the culture of abuse in our society, I will at least do something to lessen and create awareness.
Thank you for your well wishes, Mike! Yes, we are survivors!
You’ve gone through a lot as a kid. I admire your tenacity and the love you have for your mom. I am sure she is happy of who you are today.
I understand the feeling of «I wish I could’ve done something to make it stop». It has crossed my mind a thousand times over the years. However, I was told that I was a kid myself. There wasn’t much that I could do. It’s something that I’m trying to reconcile with, if I ever will.
It pains my heart to know that there are kids out there right now going through similar experiences. It’s just….
Oh, G 🥺🥺🥺 i so want to give you a big hug now.🤗🤗🤗 it must be very hard growing up in a very chaotic household..🥺…
I am so sorry you had to endure it as a young girl..
Thank you so much, Bianca, for your kind words. It means a lot to me, my friend. I appreciate you. Thank you for reading and leaving such a warm comment. 😊
Oh, Mike, the tears were sliding as I read your poem several times, and my emotions are still active. I feel for you and your mom for what you both had to endure. Like you’ve heard before, no one deserves to be the recipient of domestic violence. But how you manage to put those horrifying memories into beautiful poetry that draws your readers in is what I value so much, and I’m sure others would agree. Congrats on another publication, and thanks for sharing this part of you. Hugs ❤️
Lauren, my friend, thank you for your kindness. I value your support so much. This was a hard one to write, especially the final stanza. No one wishes to see that sort of anguish on a mother’s face, especially not as a child. I wanted to contrast the horror of those years with the beautifully enduring memory of my mom’s safe place…her garden. The image of her in her evening garden surrounded by farm dogs and cats, watering the squash or gathering corn and peas, is something I cherish. My mom died before I ever got anything published, but I hope she’d like this poem.
Thanks as always for everything, my friend. I appreciate you. 😊
I can’t imagine writing this, Mike, reliving the difficult times, to put it mildly. But you did an amazing job of showing the contrast of the horror and your mom’s beautiful garden. It’s sad that she didn’t get the chance to read your wonderful writing, but I’m sure she would’ve loved this poem. Take care, and I await your next masterpiece. ❤️
«her fingers bent with age and arthritis yet strong enough to hold herself together day by day to contain the tears the anger the horror»
How beautifully you connect, Mike..🙂
I know (through your writings) about your emotional attachment with your mother .. all that she faced in her life.This poem is so beautifully expressed. Love it👍
Thank you, dear Saima. It’s very kind of you. Yes, although I’ve only written a few pieces about my mom, there’s still so much to say. I’ve avoided digging into it to any significant depth because it’s painful , and there’s so much shame and guilt associated with growing up in a severely dysfunctional family. This stuff lasts forever, even with therapy. I still have some things I need to work through, of course. I wish I could have made this stop when I was little, and I tried my best, but I realize now that a kid can only do so much to stop a violent father, and I didn’t have enough strength or power or whatever to put an end to the abuse, and it’s affected me all my life. Writing about it helps a lot, and I’m sure I’ll be revisiting my mom in my poetry.
I appreciate you, my friend. Your support is so important to me. Thanks for being here, Saima. 😊
I can understand your feelings, dear Mike but still I can never comprehend what you have gone through, my friend. You did what you could do as a child, yet it was too large for your little mind. Anyway, much respect for your graceful mother👍 may her soul be at peace and rewarded in the best possible way, amen. Always, prayers and best wishes for you my dear beautiful friend.. You are a graceful person, despite of all the brutality and negativity, you are a positive, compassionate and gentleman, thats everything, you are a winner of your life👍 PROUD OF YOU!!!
Thanks, Saima. Your kind words comfort me, as do your golden heart and soul. I’m so grateful to you, my wonderful friend. Thanks so much for your constant support. You bring light with you wherever you go. I appreciate you. 😊🕯🌞
I so much wanted that vision of her snapping beans, beagle draped and haloed in the westering sun, to be a peaceful one, Mike, not one filled with anguish and helplessness. How sad that those golden moments couldn’t be for her or for you. The imagery in this is sublime as you recreate this woman, your mom, for us. As your poetry often is – beautiful and heartbreaking. Congrats on another well-deserved publication.
Many thanks, Diana. There were times when she wore real smiles in her garden, and I hope to someday write about that. What continues to stand out to me, though, is the thundercloud that hovered eternally over our heads on the farm, that impending menace of violence. That’s what comes back to me too many times when I think of my childhood, and my mom. I wish this poem had a happy ending. I wish I could sit with her and snap beans for awhile and talk to her again.
This poem was written for the #whattheydontsee project here on Masticadores Philippines, and I wanted to share about my mom and her struggle to maintain her dignity in the face of abuse. So, yeah, there was no way this one could end happily, alas…
Thanks so much for your kindness, Diana. I know my poetry can be brutally depressing at times. Just working through a lot of stuff all the time, I suppose. I’m glad you’re here, my friend.
I understand. I hope there were times when the two of you took solace in each other’s company and the beauty of those special moments got to shine through a little. My mom died a little over a year ago, and oh, how suddenly there were all these questions I wanted to ask her and things I wanted to talk about! It’s part of the poignancy of life, I think.
Kindest thanks, my friend. And thank you for the warm welcome! This is a terribly sorrowful poem, and it’s heart-breaking to know that so many women face this sort of abuse regularly. In a perfect world, we would all love one another and treat each other with respect and dignity. This world is far from perfect, however. I hope that by sharing this poem about my mom, someone may find the strength to leave an abusive relationship and reclaim her life. I appreciate you and your constant support. It means the world to me.
Dearest Mike, your poem touched me so profoundly, and I, too, like many others shed copious tears while reading it. Your love for your Mom is so clearly illustrated by your beautiful, albeit excruciating words and feelings. I’m so sorry you had to grow up amongst this brutal violence and chaos. No child should have to witness their mother being treated this way. As you say, even with years of therapy, it seems impossible to come to terms with.
I connected with it very much as someone who has experienced domestic violence between my parents and also my own domestic violence in my marriage. As the eldest child, I was most aware of what was happening to Mum and constantly begged her to leave my father, but she was too fearful. Like you, I know how much damage these situations do to children. I haven’t faced my own feelings of inadequacy to be able to do anything for my Mum yet, and it’s been nearly eight years since she died. It took me seven years to get out of my own abusive relationship.
I’m so glad your Mom had her garden and was happy in her safe place. Strangely, it was the same with my Mum. She adored her garden and was genuinely happiest when tending the plants and moving the grass out there. My father never went into the garden, so this was Mum’s safe, happy place, too.
I’m glad you find writing about your Mom so helpful. I do, too. I’m sure there’ll be much more to come, more of your beautiful and deeply touching writing to read. If you were near me, I would be by your side, offering you my love and hopefully healing hugs. In the absence of that, I am sending you, through the air, so much love, dear friend, heartfelt thoughts and affectionate hugs. With my love, Ellie Xxx
Kindest thanks, Ellie. I just now saw your comment, so please forgive me for the delay in responding. Yes, it’s chaos and fear, growing up in a home with domestic violence. I can’t recall all the times I had to step in and make my dad stop attacking my mom. It never occurred to me that I might become the target of his wrath and violence during these fights–all I knew was I had to protect my mom. When we’re little kids, our parents tower over us, and they seem so formidable and strong and scary. My mom suffered and so did I, as well as my two sisters. Here I am at 60, still trying to sort it all out.
I’m sorry you went through this during your childhood and marriage. No one deserves this. It’s a special coincidence that your mum found peace in her garden just like my mom did. We all need safe places, and gardens seem to be magical when it comes to healing.
Thanks for caring, Ellie. I truly appreciate you and your kindness. Sending lots of love and peace across to pond to you, my friend. 😊
Dearest Mike, I wanted to respond to your kind and understanding comment, and I have just realised that four days have passed, and I am only now replying. Sorry about the delay. I have had an awful lot of health issues to come to terms with lately, and this has put me behind with everyone’s blogs. So, here I am, trying my best to play catch-up.
I’m sorry you experienced and witnessed so much domestic violence as a child, as I did, too. I guess I was fortunate in that my father never hit me, but I witnessed him beating my Mum. as you did, too. I’m sorry that your sisters suffered at the hands of your father, too. Are you still in touch with them, and do you ever speak of your childhoods together? My three younger sisters weren’t aware of my father’s treatment of my Mum, though if they were, they never said anything, and it has never been spoken about during our adult years.
Only my Mum was aware of the domestic abuse in my marriage. Thank goodness he never beat our children. My son has a good relationship with my ex now, although he lives in Cyprus and will soon be moving to Thailand, where his new wife comes from. He chooses not to have anything to do with my daughter, which hurts her. He ignores her and the girls’ birthdays, even my eldest granddaughter’s 18th birthday a few weeks ago.
It’s wonderful that both of our Mums had sanctuary in their gardens and felt safe there. I have a large garden, but because of accessibility issues, I am unable to use it. It is just grass, which my gardener cuts fortnightly, but has no flowers in it, unlike my Mum’s beautiful garden, which was bursting with colour. I’m not sure I have a safe place these days. Although I live alone now, I am safe from wicked hands. I think where I feel most at peace, apart from tucked up in bed, is when I’m writing here. That is my paradise.
I so appreciate your kindness and place in my heart, dear Mike; you truly are a special and much-valued friend. Sending you love, hugs and comfort from SouthEast England, where it is sunny today, having had many recent rainy days. Xx 🤗💕🌞
Hi, Ellie. Thanks for your kind message, and please forgive the delay in responding–I’m so far behind now in correnspondence and catching up on others’ blogs, and have a lot of ground to make up.
As for my sisters, I’m not in contact with my younger sister. It’s very complicated. My older sister lives nearby and we talk in emails a couple of times a week. They’re both aware of the abuse that occurred in our family, of course. It’s a difficult situation, and this sort of trauma lasts as lifetime, with each person seeming to react differently to it.
I’m very sorry to know there’s a divide between your ex and daughter. It seems like dysfunction is never ceases unless someone makes a great effort to end it. I’m in my 14th year of counseling and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. It’s kept me alive, and shown me that the horrors my dad visited upon us weren’t my fault and that I did everything humanly possible as a kid and an adult to make him stop. Sometimes it takes an objective professional opinion to make us realize hidden truths that can help us heal. I hope relations are repaired in your family at some point.
I sometimes wish I had a mini-garden on my back patio, maybe a few plants or something. It would be nice to have someone or something to talk to! I’m glad our moms had their gardens. 😊
Thanks as always for your kindness, Ellie. I appreciate you so much. Sending lots of love and peace from midnight Colorado! 🌙😊
Masticadores Philippines: Editor: Michelle Ayon Navajas 
Mike, I was in tears when I was reading this poem when you submitted, and reading it again this time broke my heart knowing that someone had to go through such harrowing experience in life. No woman is deserving of such.
Thank you Mike for this sad but beautifully written poem.
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Thank you so much for publishing this piece, Michelle. It has profound meaning for me. You’re right, of course–no one should have to endure domestic violence. I did everything I could to protect her. She was so strong, but it hurt her so deeply, too. Thank you for your kindness and empathy, my friend. And thank you for this opportunity to share my mom’s memory with your readers.
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Me too.. I’ve read it several times now. And my heart breaks. What they don’t see, what many never get to see.. is this pain that is lived, endured to the end.
Mikey has just delivered a most potent, poignant piece of prose. Wow. 🥺
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Thanks, Nigel. This one brings back a lot of memories, many of them soul-crushing, yet some beautifully poignant, as well. I’ll never forget my mom sitting in her garden in the summer evenings as the farm dogs and cats frolicked about. That was her domain, her safe place. I hold onto those memories so tightly.
I appreciate your kind words, amigo. Truly grateful for your friendship and presence. 😊
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Your welcome brother. When you post it on your blog, I’ll be honored to reblog it this evening. 🙏🙏
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Beautifully written. I especially love the profound metaphor: “regenerating her
scarred soul daily
only to be
shattered nightly
the cycle of the seasons”
I relate. Thank you for sharing this.
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Kindest thanks, Melissa. I’m truly sorry to know you can relate to this poem. No one should ever have to suffer like this. I appreciate your support so much, and I’m grateful for your thoughtful words. Thanks a bunch for reading. 😊
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Mike, I get stressed & angry when I hear about abuse of another person, there is really nothing worse. Not that I endured abuse but someone very close to me did & whilst all is okay now, reading this & seeing stories in the press make me weep. 🙏
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Thank you Ashley for reading Mike here. It is truly distressing to know that someone somewhere is going through abuse. We pray that our worlds will one day make a difference.
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Thank you, Michelle 🙏
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I understand the feeling, Ashley, and I agree with you wholeheartedly. Even one incident of abuse is one too many. There’s always collateral damage, too–fall-out that can destroy children when they witness this sort of thing among their parents. Everyone ends up suffering. It’s incredibly tragic.
Thank you for your kindness and empathy, my friend. I’m sorry this poem upset you, and I’m sorry a dear loved one of yours experienced this horror, too. I appreciate your kind support always, good sir. Thanks so much for stopping by. 😊
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Deep and profound.
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Thank you Annette.❤️🙏
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Thanks so much, Annette. I appreciate your kind support, my friend.
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So touching Mike, I was crying by the end. You always capture life happenings so beautifully. The good the, the bad, I can appreciate them all through your eyes.
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Thank you for reading Mike here🙏❤️
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You’re welcome, Michelle 🙂
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Kindest thanks, Michelle. I’m sorry this one brought you to tears. Your constant support means so much to me, my dear friend. Thanks so much for accompanying me on my poetic journeys. I appreciate you.
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Ditto… 😊
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Dearest Mike, it seems your work has the same effect on many people that it always does on me. You write from the core and it is so profoundly formidable. Your words cut deep, written with such fervent emotion that I read your words and I am remarkably touched. As many have mentioned the tears drizzle upon my cheeks. This one too has memories for me as I shelled many a field pea on the swing with my mom when she was not drunk. Those were good hours, and also happy ones. It is amazing to me that there are so memories we share, different yet the same in many ways. I was especially touched by these words and you painted such a vivid picture of your mom.
«how many the memories
of fear and violence
in desperate need of
eradication
her rough ancient hoe
her crucifix
against
my father’s rage
her blisters
turned to calluses
turned to armor«
Thank you Mike, I am so grateful and feel privileged every time I get to read your work, it is brilliant. I get completely lost in the moment you paint for us, and find myself reading it again and again. Sending you my love and gratitude for sharing so much of yourself. I know it is not easy to share our pain. Thank you Mich for publishing this here on MasticadoresPhilippines. Melissa, I too, am so sorry that you relate to this piece. You are helping people with your sharing. This collaboration with Mich and Nigel has been so successful. Thank you Nigel also. Mike I send you my love, and my prayers always my treasured friend. 🌹
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Thanks so much, Joni. You’re always so kind in your appraisals. The parallels are uncanny at times, eh? I used to love fresh peas from the garden even though I disliked most veggies. Our gardens were pretty big, and my mom loved spending time out there in the mornings and evenings. The corn silk part of the poem is interesting because her hair didn’t turn gray as she aged, it turned into the color of corn silk. Ransom strangers would often comment on Mom’s hair, complimenting her on it’s unusual hue. She really got a kick out of that.
This poem is incredibly sad, of course, and my mom endured much more than she should have. Everyone suffered. I’m in my 14th year of counseling now because of all of this, still trying to find my way out of the past. I did the best I could to protect her. I believe she’s finally at peace now, and that’s comforting.
Thanks again, my friend, for your kind support. I know you understand a lot of what I write about, and I appreciate your insights and encouragement so much. Here’s wishing you and Scott a wonderful weekend. Much love to both of you from Colorado. 😊
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Mike, your words allow me to see your dear mother through the eyes of her child, now a man. Remarkably, you also speak so eloquently in your mother’s voice that I feel that tear run down my own cheek into the bowl of broken snap beans. That is mastery. ❤️❤️❤️🙏
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Thank you so much…Mike is such a brilliant poet❤️
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Many thanks, my friend. I’m so grateful for your support and kindness. I appreciate your compassionate insights and empathy. Thanks so much for reading this poem.
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The sorrow, the pity, the pain I felt as I read this is quite excruciating. Carefully chosen diction and vivid descriptions. Tonight, I weep for her. She was strong, resilient, indefatigable. She faced it all and when she went down, closed her eyes into eternity, I knew she had accepted her fate. Too sad for me yet. May she forever rest in peace. That was a tough time for you, Mike. I’m glad you emerged strong and willing to carry on with life. Bright candles be lit everywhere for her.
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Thank you Lamittan for reading Mike’s piece here.❤️🙏
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You’re most welcome, Mich my friend. Mike’s writing is reality on paper, and that makes them interesting and easy to resonate with. ❤️🙏❤️
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Thanks, my brother. You’ve honored my mom with your beautiful words, and that means so much to me. Thanks for your kindness and for always being so supportive and encouraging. Your friendship is invaluable. I appreciate your stopping by to read and comment. All the best to you, my friend.
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Feel most welcome, my brother. And for you kind words, I say thank you too. Always a real pleasure reading your works. They are interesting because they come from your heart.
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I had tears running straight into that bowl as I read this piece, Michael. (nice to make your acquaintance 🙇🏽♀️)
To live like that is unfair to Mom and everyone in this planet.
“a secret energy regenerating her scarred soul daily”
Your mom took it in and only when the pain was impossible to contain let it just lay there as testament.
“her heart always an autumn heart forever offering harvest to all,”
Only a poet can describe another human the way you describe Mom. It’s beautiful:
“her hair was corn silk
“her naked feet rooting into earth
“the westering sun haloing her tired face
And It saddens me too. Because though I don’t know your mother, I know this image.
Your mom was a girl full of dreams and a loving heart (I can tell) that never imagined nor deserved a life like that. And that man was her beloved who was supposed to protect her. Unbelievable.
Unlike your grandmother (Im making an ass of myself here when I assume this “forgive”)—unlike your grandmother who raised your father, your mother raised a compassionate son. Attuned to kindness. Ready to discern abuse. Many times though such sons as your mother raised, cannot act on their mothers’ defense: that only serves to aggravate the situation for the mothers.
But that this is still the case in this day and age of smart people like us… God help us!
Yours is a poem I wish to share. Let me reblog it at some point. Please. Will backlink if on the blog. If on newsletter it will show as visitors (perhaps 50) to your blog. Either way, you can rest assured I’ll give proper attributes. Your poem is beyond my capacities as a poet. Bless you and so glad you shared.
Thanks. Later… sending hugs and blessings.
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Oh, Selma i too was crying reading Mike’s poem..its such a harrowing and unfortunate experience that no one deserves of.
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Thanks so much, Selma, and it’s nice to meet you too. I tried responding earlier but my comment didn’t post, alas… Your compassionate and in-depth appraisal of this poem really moved me. The subject matter is so fraught with horrible memories of fear and violence and hyper-vigilance and isolation and hopelessness. You’re right–my mom deserved better. We all did.
Please feel free to reblog this one. It’s such a kind gesture, and I appreciate it. I plan on posting this poem on my own blog in a couple of days, so you could reblog from there or from here (if it’s okay with Michelle). I’m honored that you wish to share this poem, especially since I’m well aware of your gorgeous poetry, so it really means a lot to me.
Thanks again for your kindness, Selma. I’m truly grateful, and I appreciate it so much. I’m so glad you enjoyed this one. 😊🙏
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Tremendously 🤗
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I am totally okay with everyone sharing this impactful piece Mike of yours Mike.🙏✍️
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🥹 i had to pause. i almost didn’t finish reading it. every word, every line is the play button of my memories of domestic abuse 🥹
”how many the memories
of fear and violence
in desperate need of
eradication
her rough ancient hoe
her crucifix
against
my father’s rage
her blisters
turned to calluses
turned to armor”
the anguish in her smile is a memory no child should ever witness. it flips the switch. more than once i thought “if we (kids) weren’t here, would you have left him?” a question i never had the courage to ask.
”she looked at me then
and her smile was terrible
an anguish
I’d never seen before
and I knew
that she knew
there was nothing
either of us could do”
thank you, Michael for sharing this… (my tears aren’t willing to stop running🥹)
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i meant “replay button”
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Thank yo so much, Scarlet, for your kind and thoughtful words. I’m terribly sorry that you’re familiar with this sort of thing. From a child’s perspective, it causes us to feel guilt, that perhaps we’re the reason for the violence, and that can lead to self-hatred and all sorts of problems. I used to beg my mom to leave my dad, divorce him, just get all of us away from him, but she was afraid. As a kid, I didn’t understand battered wife syndrome, all I knew was I had to be her protector, on guard at all times, and willing to risk my own life to save hers. And you’re right–it does flip a switch in a child’s mind. My childhood ended around age seven because of domestic violence. I developed PTSD and major depression and severe chronic insomnia and anxiety issues because of what took place at home growing up. I’ve spent fourteen years in counseling trying to fix what’s broken, and I’m not sure if I can ever fix it. Yet, what my mom endured was so much worse.
She’s at peace now, having left this world in 2015. She’s no longer in pain, and that’s a comfort. But I miss her, and I regret I couldn’t make it stop when I was young.
Thank you again for your compassion and thoughtfulness, Scarlet. I’m sorry this brought you to tears due to sorrowful memories. I appreciate your sharing, and for taking time to read and reach out. We’re survivors. Wishing you the very best, my friend.
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Mike, i am truly sorry that you and your mom had to endure such a terrible experience from the man, who is supposed to love and protect you and your mom. It angered me to read stories like yours. I don’t understand how a man could possibly hurt a helpless woman, much more the one he promised to love and to hold forever. 🥺🥺🥺
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Thanks, Michelle. It’s such a strange and complicated dynamic. There are plenty of men who come from disastrous homes like my dad was raised in who don’t carry on the dysfunction and violence, so even though my dad came from a violent home, at some point he decided to pursue violence himself. He was an adult, making his own choices, and he chose to beat his wife and terrorize his kids. I’m so thankful I’m not like him. My mom raised me to be kind and compassionate and to respect women, and I’m so grateful to her for that. My dad died in 2017, so his legacy of violence has come to an end. I’m not sure if that’s a properly satisfying resolution–it certainly can’t erase his choices and actions–but at least he can’t hurt anyone anymore.
Your kindness is very much appreciated, Michelle. Thank you so much.
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I applaud you Mike for choosing to be different and for putting an end to the culture of abuse and violence in your family. I am so blessed to have a very kind and compassionate father. And that’s why it breaks my heart to know some kids never had the same kind of a dad as mine. And so, I promise that, i may not totally eradicate the culture of abuse in our society, I will at least do something to lessen and create awareness.
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You’re doing an amazing job, Michelle, and you’re making a positive difference, for sure. 😊🙏
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Thank you for your well wishes, Mike! Yes, we are survivors!
You’ve gone through a lot as a kid. I admire your tenacity and the love you have for your mom. I am sure she is happy of who you are today.
I understand the feeling of «I wish I could’ve done something to make it stop». It has crossed my mind a thousand times over the years. However, I was told that I was a kid myself. There wasn’t much that I could do. It’s something that I’m trying to reconcile with, if I ever will.
It pains my heart to know that there are kids out there right now going through similar experiences. It’s just….
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Oh, G 🥺🥺🥺 i so want to give you a big hug now.🤗🤗🤗 it must be very hard growing up in a very chaotic household..🥺…
I am so sorry you had to endure it as a young girl..
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Thank you, Ms. Mich!
There were times I wanted to run away from home back then…
Knowing that kids somewhere out there are going through something similar is truly heartbreaking.
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Amazing poem, Michael. I’ll never look at snap beans the same way.
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Thank you kindly, Priscilla, for taking time to read this one. I appreciate it. 😊
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Thank you Priscila🙌❤️
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This bbrought me to tears, Mike 💔😥😥
Heartbreaking, but so beautifully written! Thank you so much for sharing this! 🙏♥️
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Thank you so much, Bianca, for your kind words. It means a lot to me, my friend. I appreciate you. Thank you for reading and leaving such a warm comment. 😊
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Oh, Mike, the tears were sliding as I read your poem several times, and my emotions are still active. I feel for you and your mom for what you both had to endure. Like you’ve heard before, no one deserves to be the recipient of domestic violence. But how you manage to put those horrifying memories into beautiful poetry that draws your readers in is what I value so much, and I’m sure others would agree. Congrats on another publication, and thanks for sharing this part of you. Hugs ❤️
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I also cried Lauren. Thank you❤️🙏🙌
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Lauren, my friend, thank you for your kindness. I value your support so much. This was a hard one to write, especially the final stanza. No one wishes to see that sort of anguish on a mother’s face, especially not as a child. I wanted to contrast the horror of those years with the beautifully enduring memory of my mom’s safe place…her garden. The image of her in her evening garden surrounded by farm dogs and cats, watering the squash or gathering corn and peas, is something I cherish. My mom died before I ever got anything published, but I hope she’d like this poem.
Thanks as always for everything, my friend. I appreciate you. 😊
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I can’t imagine writing this, Mike, reliving the difficult times, to put it mildly. But you did an amazing job of showing the contrast of the horror and your mom’s beautiful garden. It’s sad that she didn’t get the chance to read your wonderful writing, but I’m sure she would’ve loved this poem. Take care, and I await your next masterpiece. ❤️
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Deeply touching poem!
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Many thanks, Dawn. I appreciate you and your kind support, my friend. Thanks so much for stopping by and reading. 😊
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«her fingers bent
with age and arthritis
yet strong enough
to hold herself
together
day by day
to contain
the tears the anger the horror»
How beautifully you connect, Mike..🙂
I know (through your writings) about your emotional attachment with your mother .. all that she faced in her life.This poem is so beautifully expressed. Love it👍
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Thank you for reading Mike❤️
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It’s always a pleasure to read his poetry/ essays. His work is so wonderful.
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Thank you, dear Saima. It’s very kind of you. Yes, although I’ve only written a few pieces about my mom, there’s still so much to say. I’ve avoided digging into it to any significant depth because it’s painful , and there’s so much shame and guilt associated with growing up in a severely dysfunctional family. This stuff lasts forever, even with therapy. I still have some things I need to work through, of course. I wish I could have made this stop when I was little, and I tried my best, but I realize now that a kid can only do so much to stop a violent father, and I didn’t have enough strength or power or whatever to put an end to the abuse, and it’s affected me all my life. Writing about it helps a lot, and I’m sure I’ll be revisiting my mom in my poetry.
I appreciate you, my friend. Your support is so important to me. Thanks for being here, Saima. 😊
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I can understand your feelings, dear Mike but still I can never comprehend what you have gone through, my friend. You did what you could do as a child, yet it was too large for your little mind. Anyway, much respect for your graceful mother👍 may her soul be at peace and rewarded in the best possible way, amen. Always, prayers and best wishes for you my dear beautiful friend.. You are a graceful person, despite of all the brutality and negativity, you are a positive, compassionate and gentleman, thats everything, you are a winner of your life👍 PROUD OF YOU!!!
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Thanks, Saima. Your kind words comfort me, as do your golden heart and soul. I’m so grateful to you, my wonderful friend. Thanks so much for your constant support. You bring light with you wherever you go. I appreciate you. 😊🕯🌞
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💕🙂
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I so much wanted that vision of her snapping beans, beagle draped and haloed in the westering sun, to be a peaceful one, Mike, not one filled with anguish and helplessness. How sad that those golden moments couldn’t be for her or for you. The imagery in this is sublime as you recreate this woman, your mom, for us. As your poetry often is – beautiful and heartbreaking. Congrats on another well-deserved publication.
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Thank you Diana for reading Mike here.🙏❤️
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Many thanks, Diana. There were times when she wore real smiles in her garden, and I hope to someday write about that. What continues to stand out to me, though, is the thundercloud that hovered eternally over our heads on the farm, that impending menace of violence. That’s what comes back to me too many times when I think of my childhood, and my mom. I wish this poem had a happy ending. I wish I could sit with her and snap beans for awhile and talk to her again.
This poem was written for the #whattheydontsee project here on Masticadores Philippines, and I wanted to share about my mom and her struggle to maintain her dignity in the face of abuse. So, yeah, there was no way this one could end happily, alas…
Thanks so much for your kindness, Diana. I know my poetry can be brutally depressing at times. Just working through a lot of stuff all the time, I suppose. I’m glad you’re here, my friend.
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I understand. I hope there were times when the two of you took solace in each other’s company and the beauty of those special moments got to shine through a little. My mom died a little over a year ago, and oh, how suddenly there were all these questions I wanted to ask her and things I wanted to talk about! It’s part of the poignancy of life, I think.
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I’d like to say, welcome to the Philippines, Mike! Proud Filipino here. 🩷
This hit me so hard because I’ve felt this. 😥😭😢
and I knew
that she knew
there was nothing
either of us could do
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Aw, thank you so much for reading Mike here❤️
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Kindest thanks, my friend. And thank you for the warm welcome! This is a terribly sorrowful poem, and it’s heart-breaking to know that so many women face this sort of abuse regularly. In a perfect world, we would all love one another and treat each other with respect and dignity. This world is far from perfect, however. I hope that by sharing this poem about my mom, someone may find the strength to leave an abusive relationship and reclaim her life. I appreciate you and your constant support. It means the world to me.
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Dearest Mike, your poem touched me so profoundly, and I, too, like many others shed copious tears while reading it. Your love for your Mom is so clearly illustrated by your beautiful, albeit excruciating words and feelings. I’m so sorry you had to grow up amongst this brutal violence and chaos. No child should have to witness their mother being treated this way. As you say, even with years of therapy, it seems impossible to come to terms with.
I connected with it very much as someone who has experienced domestic violence between my parents and also my own domestic violence in my marriage. As the eldest child, I was most aware of what was happening to Mum and constantly begged her to leave my father, but she was too fearful. Like you, I know how much damage these situations do to children. I haven’t faced my own feelings of inadequacy to be able to do anything for my Mum yet, and it’s been nearly eight years since she died. It took me seven years to get out of my own abusive relationship.
I’m so glad your Mom had her garden and was happy in her safe place. Strangely, it was the same with my Mum. She adored her garden and was genuinely happiest when tending the plants and moving the grass out there. My father never went into the garden, so this was Mum’s safe, happy place, too.
I’m glad you find writing about your Mom so helpful. I do, too. I’m sure there’ll be much more to come, more of your beautiful and deeply touching writing to read. If you were near me, I would be by your side, offering you my love and hopefully healing hugs. In the absence of that, I am sending you, through the air, so much love, dear friend, heartfelt thoughts and affectionate hugs. With my love, Ellie Xxx
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Kindest thanks, Ellie. I just now saw your comment, so please forgive me for the delay in responding. Yes, it’s chaos and fear, growing up in a home with domestic violence. I can’t recall all the times I had to step in and make my dad stop attacking my mom. It never occurred to me that I might become the target of his wrath and violence during these fights–all I knew was I had to protect my mom. When we’re little kids, our parents tower over us, and they seem so formidable and strong and scary. My mom suffered and so did I, as well as my two sisters. Here I am at 60, still trying to sort it all out.
I’m sorry you went through this during your childhood and marriage. No one deserves this. It’s a special coincidence that your mum found peace in her garden just like my mom did. We all need safe places, and gardens seem to be magical when it comes to healing.
Thanks for caring, Ellie. I truly appreciate you and your kindness. Sending lots of love and peace across to pond to you, my friend. 😊
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Dearest Mike,
I wanted to respond to your kind and understanding comment, and I have just realised that four days have passed, and I am only now replying. Sorry about the delay. I have had an awful lot of health issues to come to terms with lately, and this has put me behind with everyone’s blogs. So, here I am, trying my best to play catch-up.
I’m sorry you experienced and witnessed so much domestic violence as a child, as I did, too. I guess I was fortunate in that my father never hit me, but I witnessed him beating my Mum. as you did, too. I’m sorry that your sisters suffered at the hands of your father, too. Are you still in touch with them, and do you ever speak of your childhoods together? My three younger sisters weren’t aware of my father’s treatment of my Mum, though if they were, they never said anything, and it has never been spoken about during our adult years.
Only my Mum was aware of the domestic abuse in my marriage. Thank goodness he never beat our children. My son has a good relationship with my ex now, although he lives in Cyprus and will soon be moving to Thailand, where his new wife comes from. He chooses not to have anything to do with my daughter, which hurts her. He ignores her and the girls’ birthdays, even my eldest granddaughter’s 18th birthday a few weeks ago.
It’s wonderful that both of our Mums had sanctuary in their gardens and felt safe there. I have a large garden, but because of accessibility issues, I am unable to use it. It is just grass, which my gardener cuts fortnightly, but has no flowers in it, unlike my Mum’s beautiful garden, which was bursting with colour. I’m not sure I have a safe place these days. Although I live alone now, I am safe from wicked hands. I think where I feel most at peace, apart from tucked up in bed, is when I’m writing here. That is my paradise.
I so appreciate your kindness and place in my heart, dear Mike; you truly are a special and much-valued friend. Sending you love, hugs and comfort from SouthEast England, where it is sunny today, having had many recent rainy days. Xx 🤗💕🌞
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Hi, Ellie. Thanks for your kind message, and please forgive the delay in responding–I’m so far behind now in correnspondence and catching up on others’ blogs, and have a lot of ground to make up.
As for my sisters, I’m not in contact with my younger sister. It’s very complicated. My older sister lives nearby and we talk in emails a couple of times a week. They’re both aware of the abuse that occurred in our family, of course. It’s a difficult situation, and this sort of trauma lasts as lifetime, with each person seeming to react differently to it.
I’m very sorry to know there’s a divide between your ex and daughter. It seems like dysfunction is never ceases unless someone makes a great effort to end it. I’m in my 14th year of counseling and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. It’s kept me alive, and shown me that the horrors my dad visited upon us weren’t my fault and that I did everything humanly possible as a kid and an adult to make him stop. Sometimes it takes an objective professional opinion to make us realize hidden truths that can help us heal. I hope relations are repaired in your family at some point.
I sometimes wish I had a mini-garden on my back patio, maybe a few plants or something. It would be nice to have someone or something to talk to! I’m glad our moms had their gardens. 😊
Thanks as always for your kindness, Ellie. I appreciate you so much. Sending lots of love and peace from midnight Colorado! 🌙😊
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