Rewind:
Sifting sifting through the muck
for signs of love
i find you, Daddy,
in bed on a Saturday morning
two little ones wrapped around your torso
i am the one clinging to your shoulder
jeffrey is trying to ride you,
you snort and whinny
toss him high
screeching with laughter.
Fade…
hopping over egg-shells
through mud and worms,
falling into a stormy sea
and you
you are a buoy
we cling to
marking the perimeter
of sanity
but you are a slippery savior
one minute solid,
the next shadow in mist
and then gone
and we four splashing, cling solemnly, uncrying
best we can
to childhood.
I channel you
singing softly to my babies at night
rub their ear lobes gently to wake them,
as you did,
they call me Mommy,
and gaze up at me full of hope and love,
but I am more you than her.
You were beaten down by her too
monster-mouth mother wife
she made you dumb
you gave up the fight
but here’s the thing, Daddy
You did not protect us
And I understand,
because my babies
are in a stormy sea
and I am their bouy,
though they don’t yet know it,
and every other Wednesday
I abandon them,
And I understand now
that sometimes it is out of our hands.
1Sagefemme All Rights reserved 2016
ah, yes… those waves of realization that parents are people, not gods… beautifully written…makes me love your dad…
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I also need to say.. I looked for something queer in this poem, but, sure enough, it was just a normal thing…:-)
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I, like many of us, had no roadmaps on how to be queer, or be a mother, but I did have a kind and gentle parent who has informed the person I strive to be. We are, after all, just regular people in the world.
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Loved this. Thank you for letting me into your world even if just a little bit.
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Thanks for reading:)
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