What we lost can never be replaced. Two childhoods, robbed from each of us. We survived the tormented mental, emotional and physical abuses of mad woman.
A father who never stood by us, never drew a sober breath. A man who battled stomach cancer. It was the cancer that stole his life spirit. He no longer cared. He had seen the end. He knew nothing mattered that he had done. If he had any fears they were never placed on us as children. He left once when we were young. There was an emptiness after he left. But I never felt close to him again.
Betrayal
Other men, other women, and the constant yelling. Like a small war zone.No one is getting their way. The blood shed over hatred, that no man can understand. Using god as a weapon. Over and over they would battle.Sometimes all day and night for days.
Mealtime was a dangerous navigation through an invisible emotional riot. You never knew which pace to keep while chewing. An open hand or a fist to the head. The food would pop out and the slapping began. Then you ran if you could get away. Sometimes he would stop it. Mostly, he never did anything. He just looked out the glass door and sipped quietly on his beer and smoked his Camel cigarette.
Tonight she is quiet except she lives on in my head. The yelling, her anger, her tears, her fits of rage. Her filthy mouth. Her telling me all about her physical needs. I sat there and tried to give her comfort then she would toss me to the floor, kick me and tell me to get out of her bedroom. I was a filthy child and her room was off limits to filthy kids.
The light switch.
She entered my room one day in the early afternoon and began talking to me. She told me to rub her foot while she talked. She told me when she was young she wanted a horse. But her father wouldn't get her one. The family owned two horses for the buggy when she was a child. She made up stories and told me lies. She would toss her head backward and laugh, while blowing out the smoke she had just inhaled from her cigarette. And then she told me to get dressed and get out of the house and go play. Don't come back until dinner time, sundown. The sheriff's car sat outside the house all the time. We never talked about it, we just knew. And then she would be calm when we would come in. For one night she would be quiet. And dad sat there and looked out that dam glass door as if the world was fine. Our worlds were far from fine.
written by:
Derrick A Jasper
A father who never stood by us, never drew a sober breath. A man who battled stomach cancer. It was the cancer that stole his life spirit. He no longer cared. He had seen the end. He knew nothing mattered that he had done. If he had any fears they were never placed on us as children. He left once when we were young. There was an emptiness after he left. But I never felt close to him again.
Betrayal
Other men, other women, and the constant yelling. Like a small war zone.No one is getting their way. The blood shed over hatred, that no man can understand. Using god as a weapon. Over and over they would battle.Sometimes all day and night for days.
Mealtime was a dangerous navigation through an invisible emotional riot. You never knew which pace to keep while chewing. An open hand or a fist to the head. The food would pop out and the slapping began. Then you ran if you could get away. Sometimes he would stop it. Mostly, he never did anything. He just looked out the glass door and sipped quietly on his beer and smoked his Camel cigarette.
Tonight she is quiet except she lives on in my head. The yelling, her anger, her tears, her fits of rage. Her filthy mouth. Her telling me all about her physical needs. I sat there and tried to give her comfort then she would toss me to the floor, kick me and tell me to get out of her bedroom. I was a filthy child and her room was off limits to filthy kids.
The light switch.
She entered my room one day in the early afternoon and began talking to me. She told me to rub her foot while she talked. She told me when she was young she wanted a horse. But her father wouldn't get her one. The family owned two horses for the buggy when she was a child. She made up stories and told me lies. She would toss her head backward and laugh, while blowing out the smoke she had just inhaled from her cigarette. And then she told me to get dressed and get out of the house and go play. Don't come back until dinner time, sundown. The sheriff's car sat outside the house all the time. We never talked about it, we just knew. And then she would be calm when we would come in. For one night she would be quiet. And dad sat there and looked out that dam glass door as if the world was fine. Our worlds were far from fine.
written by:
Derrick A Jasper
Comments
Post a Comment