Antithesis to Family
I cry alone
cuse I don’t want you seeing me in pain.
I’m addicted to this face of a Marine,
and all the masculinity we taught ourselves.
Rewriting the pain of war and broken love.
Serving me as my own superhero,
protecting from enemies everywhere.
I’m desperate for him to continue existing.
Holding a baby for the first time,
but not that awkward first time,
that responsible adult first time.
The baby cried when I put them down,
so I picked them back up,
and they fell asleep in my arms,
serving as superhero arms
to protect them from any fear.
There’s a calmness as we rock.
I love rocking chairs, hours go by,
I’m desperate for him to continue existing.
cuse what will the world do to me today,
if i become again who I was as a child?
Allowing this hero to continue
He sows discord into family,
no family is safe, from the internal strife
that dissolves commitment and relationship,
spreading seeds of isolation and poverty.
The family implodes, a density within the collective,
accumulating selfishness and grandiosity,
stoking significance and urgency,
erased – blinded – numb– disconnected– alone
No, no tears for the family that doesn’t have to exist.
No tears for the cycles that don’t have to repeat.
Did I tell you I love rocking chairs?
They smile now when they see me.
They remember.
The bond of being remembered,
by a baby, that’s deep.
All without words.
This, yeah, this is my parenting poem.
In case I run out of time.
In case I don’t get all my shit together.
in case I can’t make the space necessary.
This is a reminder of what it felt like:
to be remembered, eyes wide open, alive,
a collective, more than myself
yeah I’ll cry to make the right cycles repeat.
