The Moya View

Tag: mothers

  • Things Hidden in My Ears

    Things Hidden in My Ears

    The last hum of mother’s lullaby gently lingers, cradles back and forth, creating equilibrium.Canciones en español,poems in English,birdsongs in the drizzling rain,the faint refrains of all that chooses to linger despite the silence inside.

  • the   spaces   she   left   behind

    the spaces she left behind

    they turned    brown    before   you    arrived by    the    time  you   came   on    them swiped  the    dust    off  turned   the    pages they    were crumbling    you never   looked at    the rest    surrendering   them   to   silence     you      could      lie     down    again          now there    was   nothing   between   you     now the    rain     was    beginning     outside or      was      it        just     the    …

  • Perfectly Good Food

    Perfectly Good Food

    “It’s perfectly good food,” Wei’s mugin (mother) would say to her. “Waste not, want not,” she added to her mantra. The chop suey of existence was her muse, art.Today was her love letter to the dumpling, an ode to starch: a cheddar cheese scallion pierogi with a soy sauce/duck sauce/hot mustard packet drizzle culled from…

  • Mothers and Daughters: A Bee in Her Bonnet

    Mothers and Daughters: A Bee in Her Bonnet

    Amongst the leftovers she would sit in the old shed, with its corrugated tin roof and clapboard siding, feeling the heat come to her, a caress floating from the ground. She watched her mother delicatelyflour the last of the catfish. The shed use to be a playground but now it was a hideout- somewhere to…

  • Mothers and Daughters:  The Strawberry Smear

    Mothers and Daughters: The Strawberry Smear

    It may be hard to remember through all the broken plate moments that your daughter once looked you in the eye,that you were mermaids swimming in synchronicity in a clear blue ocean, that there was a time when her ideas would sprawl out of her head all over the homework, a big bang onto to…

  • Sea-Son


    The shells and scales will wash away.He has chosen to be a man.She will watch as the slick of him vanishesno longer swimming but walking away.He has chosen to be a man.In the cold crisp air her throats turns dry.She casts her whale song to the waves,but he can no longer hear it, feel it…

  • We Dream Our Babies Dreams

    We Dream Our Babies Dreams

    Mother’s? Father’s? Which dreams will you acquire ?Heritage will whisper them to you. The universe its others.What you choose will steer future mothers/fathers.Just know, you will cry before you hope, will grasp for tomorrow and maybe catch a star or just dull sky.Throw the best out to the universe, the worst bury far.For now, sleep…

  • She Supposes

    She Supposes

    She supposes a life beyond this wooden bench,this windswept summer day, this clear blue bay with fur seals mewling on the distant rocks.What will her husband, father, kids do if she dies? Nearby, a boy and girl are playing in the sandy grass.Just watching, a father and son, on another bench,we’re talking sports, memories of…

  • The Fitting

    The Fitting

    When her maman died Marie flew ten hours to the ancient French village where the houses steepled the church,their mansard roofs brown from neglect. The Weeping Willow in front of maman’s weathered hovel did not match Marie’s feelings. It never did. Inside the furniture had aged into antiques.The handmade chaiseswith ladder backs and unadorned ticking,French…

  • Son of Monarchs

    Son of Monarchs

    The monarch flutters above the ash and in its black and orange beautyexists all day and night. It flies up to meet the sun,the gentle maternal hand of life lived in the light.Only the scent of milkweedlures it down to ground for the paternity of feasting and breeding.In its flight between earth and sky, I…

  • Fold It Away, My Child

    Fold It Away, My Child

    Good mothers make their children fold and put away all clothes, even hers after death.   Bad mothers make sure they always wear them for the rest of their lives.