She Is Not There

By Kirsten Nicole

July 26, 2023

My summer project has been a play about my family, those who are still living and those have gone to be with Jesus. So, I've been thinking a good deal about my birthmom, Debbi Daniel.

Since I am also on the road (again) and have little down time to write, I thought I would take advantage of some previous writing that also has to do with the topics I've dealt with all summer.

I wrote this poem in college. My birthmom passed away when I was too young to remember her, so growing up, my subconscious would often try to create memories in the form of dreams. And I dreamed of her several times. This poem follows three real dreams I had of Momma Debbi, and the common theme in all of them. While she may not be physically in my memories, I've found other ways to "create" memories of her, and I love hearing stories from family members and friends. Ultimately though, I have the hope of seeing her again. So, while she may not be here, I know where she is, and the hope of future reunion is a beautiful blessing!

She Is Not There

I dream about the mother I don’t remember,

And I come upon a policeman,

Keeping a boy inside a crib.

He gives me oyster crackers,

Have you seen my mother?

He shakes his head and points

To the crowded restaurant.

My view zooms out of me

To scan the room,

But she is not there.

Another night,

I sit beside her in a cherry convertible,

Her wedding gown and white veil

Whipping in the wind,

At the speed of every moment

Wasted, unable to warn her.

She does not know me,

She asks about school,

Jabbers about honeymoon plans,

Then I am whisked away,

And she is not there.

Another night,

I hear her laughter

In the buzzing, chattering crowd.

The room begins to mix

Into odd shapes and colors,

And there she is.

I do not see her eyes or kiss her cheek,

But my arms wrap around her. I sob.

Her joyful laugh rises above

The clamor of senseless people.

When I discover, she is not there.