Oceanrain's Stories and Poems
To Remain in Your Heart...
My Porcelain Doll
By Roxana Reyes
I was observing her honey like eyes,
Her wasted long hair brushed and braided on her back…
Her face?
A somehow shy, broken smile.
Sitting on a white, fluffy pillow
she was.
Silence on her perfect features,
made me feel at peace…
Someone got rid of her
thinking she was quite old,
her dress of peachy flowers looked dusty,
her cheeks no rose.
My mother took her on her caring hands,
washed her carefully,
lovingly,
made her looked like a new one.
I found her with some company,
a ballerina doll,
sitting on a shelf,
feeling all alone.
I fall in love with her
and asked my mom at once
if I could keep the antique with me,
oh please,
can I, can I?
And Mom replied
That if I want the doll to keep,
I had to know she had a broken hand,
some missing fingers
that made her not so perfect for some gals.
I kept the doll,
And called her Virginia,
in honor of my Mom.
Today as I looked at my porcelain doll,
I dreamed of her as part of me.
Would I keep her knowing she was no perfect gift?
What would I do if she was flesh of my flesh,
breathing inside of my womb?
Would I take her off of me
like the previous owner did?
To the garbage pail with her.
She ain’t perfect
As she supposed to be!
Oh no! I feel I just can’t,
knowing the sadness in her eyes,
dreaming her broken, shy smile.
I’ll keep my porcelain doll
with her broken hand, and missing fingers,
breathing,
alive,
living creature of my heart.
If I’ll never had the chance
to decide upon your life,
I want you to know
wherever you are
that I love you,
not so perfect,
not so smart,
even with some broken, missing parts,
and I’ll remember you
so your honey like eyes
will always be shining
through mine…
To that Special Need Child that never had a chance to live.
The Porcelain Doll: Part 2
Perhaps, I was the porcelain doll,…
still, so still,
sitting on a fancy shelf,
looking through the glass windows
of any store,
It had no name.
A store, located in the corner of Monroe Street,
was near to Dreamlike Road,
or
could it be close to Wheelbarrow Theatre
at Reality Town…
Perhaps,
I looked through her eyes
observing the world,
the world was moving faster
than she’ll ever be able to image.
Lovers’ kisses passing down the street,
children skipping,
surprisingly amazed.
Beggars, druggies, rich men,
poor men;
elegant ladies with fashionable heads,
casual dressed models
with long, straight necks.
That world,
the world,
others’ world…
Rich children,
poor children,
well dress ladies with fancy dress babies;
dark skin woman with a diaper covered baby;
hear their voices,
a baby crying of hunger,
a lady dying of loneliness…
And the porcelain doll
Felt sorry for them…
Perhaps, I was her,
doing nothing but doing all,
in a search for knowing,
thirsting for intimate flows,
wanting to feel others’ kisses on her own.
The doll’s eyes were wide open but had no light,
And her lips wanted love but had none…
And perhaps, I was her
or maybe I wanted to be,
a porcelain doll sitting on a shelf,
looking through a glass window,
seeing the laughters and tears
of a world
that would never belong to her.
By Roxana Reyes
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