When Hips Cry

The tears slip out of my eyes

As she pokes deep into my psoas,

Something is clearly not right

My grandma comes to mind

The one I have never met

The one who left my mother broken-hearted

Both my aunts as little girls

A traumatic passing

I groan and moan in pain, as I squirm,

Possibly trying to escape it all,

But NO!

She keeps me in it, continues as if pitiless

My mind shoots back to my mother

Who carried me in her womb

And to her mother,

And then to my daughter,

Suppressed pain passes down

Transmitted through generations

It’s not purely in the genetics

It’s in the thoughts and in the mannerisms,

It’s in the secrets

The questions begging to be asked

The pain throbs and the tears well up

Ready to flow at the slightest prod

Every thought, every feeling, every image

It’s all part of the experience

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