Unraveling: A Collection

Written by Michelle Herd
Photographed by Nathan Adler
Shoot Assisted By: Charlene Duransalamanca
Model: Michelle Herd

Too Much, Not Enough

When I ask my mother

What her greatest pain

Disappointment, un-

Fulfilled, dream is she replies:

“Well it really is more of a

Fantasy, than a dream…

I open my right hand

An invitation, to let her

Know: I am listening.

To really dance.

I meet her with my

Eyes,

To turn and

Pirouette!

Like they do on the stage.

I wish...

Softening my heart

I wish I would have accepted

How beautiful I always was

…

You know?

I know. Bowing my forehead

I was never skinny,

‘Enough’

Nodding, yes.

I never had the

‘Right clothes’

You know?

I do, mom.

I tell you

The greatest pain

I ever went through

Was losing

My father…”

To be loved

In her freedom

The way

She never

Was, by her

Father. The

Favorite, the

Chosen One

Yes. But never

Enough, never

‘Just Right’

Too rebellious

Too attractive

too creative

To not

Become

Bored, in

Upland

Suburbia

So paint

The cracks

On the

Windows

Closed!

And nail

Them shut

‘Just in case.’

React, to

Teenage

Of course!-ity, with

Terror

And

Punishment

Far, beyond

What, for

Rehabilitation

We may need.

Figures

So fragile

We may not

Even speak

Its name.

They

Make me

Curious…

Of how things came

to be this way.

Unraveling

No longer

Do we cater

To the men

Who stifle us

Meeken us

Docile and

Sweeten, us. 

As if, being 

closer to them

Will distance, us;

From the very slaves

They stole, to do

Their bidding

Their building 

our buying 

Of Their 

human-flesh

Futile

Attempts

To quench

Such thirst-less

Men, for whom

There will never

Be enough

Buildings

Enough, people

Under them

Never enough!

Giant displays

“I exist!”

To make up

for the burning

Bodies, it took

To get there. 

Hung, from trees

Ornaments, like

Christmas, and

“Say cheese!”

From a camera

Man, yes

Present, to

Capture

The picnic

Blankets and

Baskets and

Whole damn thing.

Crosses, aflame 

To say what?

“We killed Jesus

Then and now

We are going

To kill you too?

When, will it

  be enough, growth

in a quarter

I wonder?

To satiate, us

At what point

Does it stop 

Feeling, so 

Urgent, so 

Violently

Compulsive

To keep, going?

Once Upon a Time

Once

Once there was a time

When I found myself

Praying, to a god

I did not know.

In agony

Hunched

Over

Hands-flung

To the sky.

Desperately, bargaining

For some sort of sliver

I could deem, as relief.

Now

I find myself

Praying.

Knees folded, to kiss

The Ground, that has

Never, ever

Left me.

Head

Bowed

And devoted

To The Divine Dance,

Both in and all, about me.