when did i lose my wings of girlhood
my cherub face grown sharp the visage of my mother
when did i lose my halo of girlhood
soft botticelli blonde of youth grown dark
when did i lose my robe of girlhood
the hair growing from me in itchy patches resembling man
is that when you stopped loving me?
no longer the babe, the little child of sun
jumping into daddy’s lap
does my reflection scare you?
the face of the monster, the *****
the wicked woman who tainted your heart
dark changeling taken form of nightmare
who haunts you, seeping guilt
the confines of marriage you broke
and left me to rot, a house of horrors and nicotine
of cat **** and suicide letters
a big green basket, plastic, decorative holes in the side
the pill bottles i count: 1, 2, 3, 50!
proud i can count that high
and mother says, “take this one”
like candy on my small tongue
my icarus moment of floating, feeling bumps on popcorn ceiling
falling back
down
down
down
until i am 17, looking in the mirror
my prozac a taunting smile, knowing my throat will close from a fear i can’t remember
the choking struggle of getting better
mothers eyes stare back at me, her ghost a reflection of my heartache
and i realize i was never floating
and we both share the guilt

I write to you, Father.
under the weight of my hunger,
the dark circles beneath my eyes.

A map of the nights,
I’ve lived without a name for peace.

Today, the world is a cold knife,
sharp and unrelenting.
God gave me life,
but life is a cruel companion,
like a storm that does not break,
but winds tighter and tighter
around the heart.

Heroes, Father,
are only figures made of dust and ink,
their strength lies in stories,
told in a thousand tongues
but never heard by the hungry.
Never felt by the bones,
that ache for something more,
than the hollow promises of men.

We speak of goodness
like sugar in the morning light,
but it melts in the heat of living.
You read the newspaper,
but I taste only the bitterness of the words
that spill from it.

And still,
the night comes.
The gnashing of teeth
is louder than silence,
and I am here,
waiting for the dawn
to give me something
I can hold in my hands.

This is the world, Father.
A life where hunger is a song,
where darkness is the only companion,
and the weight of being
is too heavy to bear.
But I carry it—
this unbearable weight,
and I ask,
who will weep for me,
who will see the dark circles
beneath my eyes
and say, you are not alone?

When the sun scorches my skin,
When the waves drag me deep,
When the night is dark enough
To haunt me in my sleep—

He knows. He is there.
Strong, though fear may find him,
Steady, though storms may blind him.

He embraces my weakness,
Sees beyond my sight,
Guides me toward wholeness,
Loves me without end.

Thank you, Father.

Once upon a time
a father with his belt –
(with black shiny paint
and a steel which is melt)

And a son, a pen in his hand
A book by his side
A lamp blowing light
Tears in his eyes
The fear in his veins
With his wimped tiny mole

(A cry in his neck and
a gulp in his bones)

Whimp whimp strikes the ground
Wipes the tears,picks up his pen
Shakes up his head,
Gives him a cloth,
to blow up his nose

(A smile on the boy's face
The fallen tear on the page's lace
It dried his shake on hand and
moved him a pace)

Whimp, whimp, whimp – strikes again
(A posed fear on son's face)
Whimp, and he strikes again
(The clueless child, shakes with his pain )

The blats on the floor
and its black remains
The years of slaps
which slashed up cement

(He comes back..
drops his belt   )

A relief in boy's breath

The steel fallen,
relief is felt

The father with his red hands
(Blood flows out at a spot's end )
Smiles at the son

Dark is his eyes like year's repent

(A strung in his mind
He shakes only once,
As he picks up his belt)

He sits on his couch and
acts as he had a father –
with a belt-
(with its black shiny paint and
a steel which is melt.)

I want a Family
A baby inside of me
But what if we turn out like my family?
God,
what if my husband turns out to be like my Father?
What if my baby leaves,
What will I do?

They say a father helps you see
The kind of person you should be.
A role model, strong and true,
But that's not what I learned from you.
The path you walk, I cannot take,
For my own future's, my own sake.
As husband, father, brother too,
My way must be different from you.

You worked hard, yes, the bills were paid,
You kept your promises, duty-made.
You gave us shelter, provided food,
But missed the heart's essential good.
You failed to build that bridge inside,
Where loving feelings can reside.
Emotionally, we were left dry,
Beneath a cold and empty sky.

So much affection has just flown,
The seeds of caring, left unsown.
The feelings now are hard to find,
Leaving a quiet, weary mind.
An emptiness has taken hold,
A story sadly left untold.

Living together in this place,
It’s hard to find my own space.
The air is thick with disagreement,
Constant arguments, sharp dissent.
I can't change things to feel like mine,
Just toe the ordinary line.
This house is where I live, it's true,
But "home" feels somewhere else, anew.

So anger simmers, soft and low,
And sadness watches, ebb and flow.
Disappointment, a heavy guest,
Puts heart and hope both to the test.
To share a roof, yet be so far,
Beneath a dim and distant star,
Leaves just a hollow sort of ache
For the connection you didn't make.