My Father's Daughter
Wednesday, Mar. 24, 2004 7:26 p.m.
Forgive me, father,
for I have sinned.
I knew not your worth.
Who could see the value of
wrath, and the violence
of words and action
that accompanies it?
Your punishment was swift and brutal.
In your omniscience you saw all:
A skirt torn climbing over a fence
A broken plate,
My shrieking laughter,
Misplaced glasses, yours or mine,
My reticence,
Nothing went unnoticed,
all had consequences:
A lecture, a glare, your fist,
your belt, the cane,
and worst of all
your immense disappointment.
How could I not have felt forsaken?
Or maybe it was I who forsook you;
In my despair I gave you up.
I didn't need anger and hate, after all,
I had bottomless wells of those,
I needed love, father,
And you, you failed me,
As I had failed you.
Later I found others to replace you:
Boys who were all sweetness,
Who made my heart flutter with feverish excitement
and not pound with fearful anxiety.
Men who thought I was everything,
and wanted to give me the world.
I could almost forgive you then,
warmed as I was by the embrace of another,
not because I wasn't angry anymore,
but because I didn't have to look you in the eye
and admit that I wasn't complete
because I was missing a father.
They filled your colossal shoes, and for a time
They wore yours well.
I was wrong, wasn't I?
Every road leads to you.
I know that now.
When he broke my face
I couldn't tell you, father.
What was there to tell?
He hurt me but he loved me,
And you only hurt me.
He built a golden cage for me
and made a world inside it.
It was too small and I couldn't breathe,
but what did it matter,
in your world I was already dead.
Grim giant of my youth,
I am my father's daughter.
When I was done inflicting the rage
I learned so well from you
On him and on myself,
I finally found the iron will you gave me
To break out of my cage and fly.
You never taught me how
You didn't have to
You gave me your blood.
When I finally told you about him,
I expected the disappointment and rage,
and you delivered, father,
but not in the way I imagined.
You were disappointed I didn't tell you sooner,
You were enraged that someone could hurt me so,
In all your frailness
Old and ill that you are
You threatened revenge and violence
But not on me.
On him.
You were the same old father I knew,
but I knew then that you loved me.
Love me.
Though you may not know it still,
I love you too.
I always have.
Older entries
Ramadan - 08 October 2006
Where I Have Been - 03 October 2006
Baby Talk - 10 August 2006
6 Weeks of Separation - 16 July 2006
Unacceptable Rudeness - 21 June 2006