Written to this prompt: Write about a version of you that only exists in other people’s memories.
of all the Melindas
who came before.
The one who believed
being good would mean
her parents would be happy,
her daddy would stop drinking —
the power in her.
They are buried.
The one who drank her way
through college, broken,
stamped with an invisible tag
that she believed conveyed
she was damaged goods.
They don’t remember.
The one who, as a young mother,
two children nineteen months between,
was home all day, waiting for a husband
who was waiting on others
to fill his needs.
One more child came and all grew up.
The one who wanted to be loved
and thought she’d found it,
but came to understand
that words without actions
hold no weight. Broken again.
We are divorced.
The one who found herself,
who loved again and trusted
she was worthy of it,
that she was enough
and that was all she had to be.
He died too young.
Now, I hold my children close,
am loving anew, finally whole,
carrying every version of me
as I write my poetry and
keep moving, onward.
I am alive.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 15 times
Written on 2026-06-04 at 02:35
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I Am an Amalgamate
I am an amalgamateof all the Melindas
who came before.
The one who believed
being good would mean
her parents would be happy,
her daddy would stop drinking —
the power in her.
They are buried.
The one who drank her way
through college, broken,
stamped with an invisible tag
that she believed conveyed
she was damaged goods.
They don’t remember.
The one who, as a young mother,
two children nineteen months between,
was home all day, waiting for a husband
who was waiting on others
to fill his needs.
One more child came and all grew up.
The one who wanted to be loved
and thought she’d found it,
but came to understand
that words without actions
hold no weight. Broken again.
We are divorced.
The one who found herself,
who loved again and trusted
she was worthy of it,
that she was enough
and that was all she had to be.
He died too young.
Now, I hold my children close,
am loving anew, finally whole,
carrying every version of me
as I write my poetry and
keep moving, onward.
I am alive.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 15 times
Written on 2026-06-04 at 02:35
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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