title poem!!

“ She’s wise by nature”, my aunt said lightly

when my mother’s suicide attempt didn’t kill her, but me. 

Wondering how i was calm when my world was in flames,

unknowing of abuse I'd delicately consider “growing pains”.  

Wise by nature, every time at five i’d sign my name incorrectly

insisting that Cathy Wise’s maiden name was mine, by heredity. 

I’m half of her and she’s half of me

which makes me wise by nature, by creed. 

Wise by the eyes and name that my grandfather also held,

the name he gave my mother, the voice with which she yelled. 

Perhaps I'm wine by nature, Almaden boxed chardonnay. 

the sweet voice that put me to sleep, held me while i lay

proceeds to make me shut down, space out

freak out, cry out, start to shout. 

I grieve someone who was in my house, right in front of me,

but before she drank, when being wise was who I’d want to be. 

Wise by nature, I am instinctively

an old soul, because no one took care of me. 

Wise by nature, wine by curse,

Wise by my lips that hold the same purse. 

Wise in face, wise in voice, wise in mind. 

Wise is the title of the girl who used to be mine. 

But, the seed cannot go back into the fruit

when it rots away, you’re left with just roots. 

But they can’t hold you down unless you let it. 

She can’t kill me if I don't listen and commit. 

I can break the cycle if i’m conscious, 

And for a Catholic, she’s quite Pontius. 

Wise enough to know better, do better. 

It’s in my nature.