What’s a small moment from your past that you still think about years later?

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I thought I’d do something different in response to today’s blog prompt. I wrote a poem and illustrated it in my sketchbook instead of writing a lengthy post about it. I let the poem and art speak for themselves. I rarely share my art on this blog. I used to have a dedicated website to share my art for years in the past but I had to close it down due to art theft – people stole my art and used it on print-on-demand sites. Hundreds of my images were stolen and sold without my consent. Yup. 

Here is the poem, Mushroom Head.

Mushroom Head

The yellow dress lay flat on her bed,
bright as a threat.
She wanted the jeans, the cotton shirt.
Happy 12th birthday!
Her blood was a live wire
buzzing with heat.

Her mother stepped into the mirror’s frame
behind her,
fine-boned and flawless.
Her mother measured the gap
between her pristine lines
and her daughter’s blunt, plain edges.

Her mother reached out,
tapped her nose
with a bright, chiming laugh.
“Like a mushroom head,” she said.
Her brothers giggled in the doorway.

She clenched her teeth,
raised her arms,
let the hideous yellow dress
swallow her whole,
and walked out to her party.

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I write about Iban culture, ancestral rituals, creative life, emotional truths, and the quiet transformations of love, motherhood, and identity. If this speaks to you, subscribe and journey with me.