When he died everyone
assembled at his mother’s house after the funeral to fellowship and talk about how good a man
he was. Everyone had wonderful stories
to tell, and I wondered who this man was they were talking about. They couldn’t
have been talking about my father; was
this the same man who poisoned me and
who bent me over an ironing board beating my ass immediately after my mom went to work everyday?
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every poem on my blog by Alexgeorge is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at daij62.blogspot.com.
IS YOUR SOUL TIGHT?
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About Me
- Daij
- Somewhere in , Wisconsin, United States
- First of all, I love GOD. Proud Christian here! I love the smell of baked goods, seeing dads with their sons at the barbershop, couples walking down the street holding hands, I love my friends and their kids and their dogs and cats and my cats. I love poetry, jazz, old school R&B, Hip hop, Gospel, House, architecture, writing, and baking. I love compliments about my baking, I love Paris, Scarborough Ontario, Latino culture, nappy hair, and the sound of kids laughing. The first thing I do every morning after I crawl out of bed is get on my knees to thank God for letting me see another day. I invite you to join me on this journey on this thing called Life, where you might laugh, cry, and perhaps be enlightened along the way! I might be enlightened as well, based on your responses to my posts. For collaborations: daij62@gmail.com
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every poem on my blog by Alexgeorge is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at daij62.blogspot.com.
2 comments:
hmmmmm......
People are different with different people and depending on whom you ask the story, the description, identification of the seemingly same is paradoxically complex.
We have many facetted faces, a multitude of identities that change depending on life’s demands/requirements. It is a kaleidoscopic mask that is every changing, transforming succinctly.
You lover that feeds your soul, ignites your mind and body can be my enemy, my torturer, my executioner.
Peace…
Have a blessed week.
Repeating the last sentence-was this the same man who poisoned me and who bent me over an ironing board beating my ass immediately after my mom went to work everyday? He called me every name except my own. I was hospitalized with an intestine infection and lost 25 pounds due to his poisoning me. He treated my sister (and everyone else) like priceless porcelain. When he and my mother would argue he would take it out on me the second she left this house. He made me take scalding hot baths. And all of that is the least of what he did to me. Yes, that person everyone was talking so nicely about was a complete stranger to me, and to this day my sister refuses to believe the Henry I experienced never existed. You have a blessed week too.
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