Monday, November 15, 2010

Who You Are

You are five years old and hiding in a corner Underneath the stairs
As your biggest hero crashes down the hall
You curl yourself into a small niche
Under your breath, you mutter the words
"I hate you"
But you forget how his ears are extra keen
Because of his blindness.
He heard you. Little girl
Do you have to be who you are?

You are ten years old,
Sitting at the end of your mother's bed.
With childlike words, you try to explain what happened
How his fingers groped, and you bled
Because you're scared
And your mother stares at you, dumbfounded
Her swollen belly threatening to burst
With his child
Your sister.
And she doesn't do a thing. Child,
What makes you think who you are is worth shit?

You are sweet sixteen, and it is not sweet.
Your birthday is spent in tears
Because you might be older, but you aren't better.
In fact, you probably shouldn't have been born
Because all you do
Is cause grief for your family
This is what he screams into your face
All day long
But come nightfall, he will cry as he holds you close
Telling you he loves you
As you pleasure him. Little lady,
Don't you regret yet who you are?

Today, I locked myself into the bathroom
Turned off all the lights
Lit a candle,
Turned on the ihome and played 'Hey Jude'
Curled up on the floor
And I cried for you.
I mourned the pain of the little girl,
Sobbed in rage for the child
My heart ached for the little lady.
I cannot forgive what happened.
Every step that made you
Who you are.


Anonymous said...