Super-Woman
I found my mom in the kitchen cooking,
she has spent a 5th of her life in the
kitchen, if you thoroughly count all of the
minutes; the cassava leaf is steaming,
my sister is on the phone telling her happy
Mother’s Day, they have grown too closed
over the last few years, and now have a girls
trip to Mexico. But I cannot get over the
fact that I found my mom in the kitchen
cooking, and yes, it is 7 am on Mother’s
Day.
For Nay, Elizabeth Nay Williams
Death, the agony of leaving behind
everything you have built for a potential
beginning; (unfair). Death, the trauma of
ceasing to exist within a body you have
attached your identity to; (madness).
Death, the unimaginable pain of never
seeing your loved ones again; (tragic).
Poetry, linking memories from saying
happy Mother’s Day through words from
one age to the next; (my truce).
Siamese Twins
There was a time, a time where I saw the
world from mathematical senses, senses
that questioned everything, especially
God. Back then, life was a little simpler,
school, college, law school,
representative, senator, president, president;
we had a plan, an intelligent design, but the
signs have always been there, I see them
whenever I think of the past. I see them
over and over again. I see them wherever I
look. I see them, and then I see me. I see
myself, and then I see us. Madness has
always been, always been the fate.
Nate Tulay is an aspiring Liberian-American poet. He was born in Liberia during a civil war with a tied tongue and some deafness in his right ear and also experienced another civil war when he was four and lost his childhood innocence to it. Nate’s experiences and struggles have made me a philosopher sooner rather than later in life and are still his motivations to strive for greatness and to be a fair, kind, friendly, loving, understanding, compassionate, and honest person one day at a time.
