I sit, tense, adrenaline rush,
and try to be
as small as possible
begging not to be noticed
He sits in constant motion
cigerette in hand
muttering imagined slights
I pray he doesn't notice me,
I try to ignore him,
waiting for the accusations to start,
pretending I don't exist,
he imagines that I did and do
many things, that I know many things
It is no use to deny,
I am guilty without trial,
silence is truth
my voice nothing but the lie
he is judge, jury and executioner
I am helpless
Bound by ties of blood
the legacy passes
father to daughter, mother to child
even in death, that slight repreive,
there is no end
I watch my child, already
in constant motion,
and I fearfuly wonder if
the accusations will start,
and who will be judge, jury
and executioner
This is representative of fine poetry, one of your best. I didn't grow up around mental illness, but I have had my share of strains, and illness comes in many forms... Very good writing. Solid. And, what a story... Sad and frightening. I feel bad that you had to endure this, but I think in some ways, our trials are gifts, if we react to them positively. You seem to have a very good attitude about it. Forgiving and inspirational. Thank you for sharing. A most impressive piece of work.
This is a powerful statement. Encompasses so many mental illnesses including alcoholism and sexual perversion. Thanks for the candor.
When we are young and ignorant to the ways of the world and our own, we simply marry what we know. The father turns into the husband and if we're not careful, if we don't wake up, the husband turns into the child. This poem captures that frightening transition.
This was an interesting read. It's strength was most evident in the last lines where the question of the child someday having the same beefs against you arose, at least in my mind. If you do as decent a job as you can, your conscience can spare you if this occurs. I got the impression the orge at the beginning of the poem was a husband, Realize it could be a father, but the relationship seemed more marital. At any rate, the guy's an abuser.