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A Mother, A Friend, A Rock Solid Bitch
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A Mother, A Friend, A Rock Solid Bitch
A poem about my always interesting relationship with my mother.
[402 words]
Jenn Thomas-Orr
Jenn is an eclectic freak who spends her days writing and creating digital art, just for the love of it.
[April 2002]
[email protected]
Didgeridoo (Non-Fiction) A review of a short performance I had the privilege of attending in Australia in 2001. [378 words] [Travel]
Nothing New (Non-Fiction) One woman's experience with surviving domestic abuse and moving on with life. [2,352 words]
Postage Stamp Dreams (Poetry) An accidental LSD dose at the age of seven years can have effects that last a lifetime. [308 words] [Mind]
Rainbow Storms (Poetry) Playing with poetry magnets and then doing a little bit of judicious editing resulted in one of the best poems I've ever written. [67 words] [Erotic]
Sanctify (Poetry) A poem about being on the outside of society, about being blessed with unconditional love, and about acceptance. [230 words] [Mystical]
See The Light? (Non-Fiction) Random memories about a father from a daughter who loved him. [1,807 words] [Biography]
Six Years Of Valentines (Poetry) Six poems, one written each Valentine's Day from 1996 to 2001. They form a whole when read together, tracking the course of my long distance relationship with my now husband. Oddly enough, 2002 was ou... [560 words] [Relationships]
A Mother, A Friend, A Rock Solid Bitch
Jenn Thomas-Orr

In my young life,
I carried an image with me
Of the perfect mother.
She wasn't the one I had
No, no no.

She was the Virgin Mary
My Aunt Susie
My Grammy
Debbie Hopkins' mother
Anybody's mother but mine.

Early memory
Four year old child
Confused and mother-lonely
And Daddy brings the
New Girlfriend

"Are you my Mommy?"
"No, but I will be."
Yeah, right. She never was.
Oh, she was a "mother" all right.
(In more ways than one)
But never a Mommy.
Just a cold and cruel woman.
Not my Mommy.

Somehow I had forgotten you
In a few short months.
I didn't have your face in my heart.
Your voice in my head.
Just emptiness
The same question for every
Woman I met:
"Are you my Mommy?"

Vague memories
From when I was five
A weekend with you
A wondrous weekend.
A fight back at home,
And threats and yelling,
And you walking down the stairs
Not willing to put us through it
Letting go, for your sanity.
And ours.

Solomon once judged
"Cut the child in half
And give each woman one half"
And the true mother
Was willing to walk away
Rather than harm her child.
A real Mother.

And that is when I found you
For good and all.
And I carried your face with me
During the lost years.
I heard your voice in my mind
And I clung to my vision of you.

Years passed.
And healing began,
Healing was, healing is.
Healing will continue
It's a daily struggle,
Mending this breach between us.

And years pass
I find in my Mother
A Mommy
A friend
A rock solid bitch
Who makes me angry.
A wildly funny woman
Who can make me laugh
Without even working at it.
A brilliant conversationalist
Who I can gab with for hours.
A friend, a goddess,
An enemy, an angel,
All wrapped up inside
One living being,
Aging now but still
And so wonderfully

Never easy,
Not the two of us,
Never simple.
We are both very
Easily hurt
Quick to jump
Quick to flee
And to hide
Behind anger -
A safe haven
From tears.
That is the kind of women
We are.
Spines of Solid Iron.
Hearts of small hurt kids.

The damage that
Was done
To both of us.
Could have destroyed us.
The Usness of Us.
Could have torn us from
Each other, in a blink.

But like glue,
I stuck.
Even when it wasn't easy.
Even when I hated you.
Even when you didn't
Like me very much or
Understand me at all.

And that glue stuck.
And filled in the cracks
Patches were found
To fit into the holes,
Although we left
A few holes unpatched,
The better to treasure
The mended Us.

This poem for my Mother was inspired by a comment my friend Meg made in a conversation we were sharing about the women who gave us life. Thank you Meg. And thank you Ma.

"She was mother, goddess, friend, enemy, angel, bitch all rolled into one."
-Meg Britton



"Though this is very therapy, I liked it, especially the line which inspired the title. There's a nice easy rhythm to it - feels like conversation." -- Iam.
"i just want to say fuck" -- fucker, fuck, fuckity, fuck.


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© 2000 Jenn Thomas-Orr
April 2002

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