Nate
The
living room
Sits,
Silently,
Waiting
for movement,
Noise.
But
nothing’s coming.
This is
Dad’s quiet time.
The
time he’s been stuck in for weeks
Since
his decline.
He’s
sick. Not getting better.
I look
to his dark skin and eyes,
black
hair so much like my own.
Face
with my features.
He
stares at the television as if it holds the answers
To
Mom’s death
And his
disease.
I stare
at him
And
hope
For
answers, too.
Emily
Voices
surround me, close me in
Block
out the outside.
Mother
Yells
Brother
Yells
They
say words I can’t understand.
Won’t
understand until I
Can
Heal
the
Wounds
inside.
Of pain
Of
sadness
Of
anger
Words
float through the air. I push them away
Out-of-control,
alone, arrested!
Single,
alone, old…
Mother
gasps and pushes Brother into his room, forcing him
To
submit.
He
pushes her back, into her own room.
Don’t
even know you anymore!
As
if you cared…
What
makes walls between people we love?
Is it
the love that separates them or is it the people who love?
Why is
there a wall between Mother and Brother that no one can patch?
If they
loved each other more, would they still fight?
Mother
turns into her room and Brother follows
Screaming,
pointing, accusing.
I sit silently and stare
Away.
Christina
My
mother still owns me
Years
after I’ve left the house
Years
after I’ve graduated college
Everyday,
she still
Controls
Me.
She
tells me I cannot grow out my hair,
I
cannot pierce my ears,
I
cannot move away from
Her.
Why I
am still scared of her,
As if I
am five,
When I
am really twenty-eight?
I
cannot get help; who would care?
Who
would face up to
Her?
She
says it’s in her
Right.
I am
not allowed to have friends
Or talk
to men.
Including
Daddy.
Daddy
doesn’t talk to Mother anymore.
He drinks
when I’m here.
Drinks
when I’m not.
Watches
as she hurts me with words
Sharp
enough to cut.
Sometimes,
I feel like a failure,
But
I’ll keep trying.
I have
to.
Davida
He
knows I’m watching.
He
doesn’t care.
He acts
like I’m not here.
If I could
learn one thing from him, I know what it’d be.
The
unnatural talent
To
erase someone’s existence, to ignore them completely
Even as
you yell at them.
Mother
got smart and left.
I don’t
know why she left us behind,
My
sister and me,
But I
understand how she left,
Almost
more than I do myself.
He sits
at the dining room table,
Working,
Teaching
my sister
The way
to be “successful.”
It
doesn’t include being as cold as he is to us.
As
cruel.
As
furious.
He
doesn’t even care if, at six,
She
already knows she wants to be a teacher.
Teachers
have no pay. You can’t pay the bills with books.
He is
the reason why
I will
never have children of my own.
My
worst
Fear
Is
turning into
A
parent
Like
Him.
Grace
My twin
brother and I are nothing alike
The
only thing we really share
Is our
mother.
Something
that he aims to change.
They
fight always.
Over
everything.
He
sleeps at friends’ houses.
At
girls’ houses.
He
invites me to run, knowing I will not come.
He
doesn’t want to share even a last name with me.
I don’t
know
Why
The
idea of “family” is so repulsive to him
But I
know one thing we do share.
We both
need
Freedom
To be
ourselves.
A
luxury our poverty does not allow.
He
finds ways to avoid our mother
Even
though she’s out eighteen hours a day
Working.
For us
Maybe
he wants to be like our father,
There
and gone
Not
long enough to know him
But
Long
enough to miss him.
I know
he wants
Out.
But
he’s
Too
scared
To look
for it.
Klein
Lately,
Mom’s
been getting old.
She’s
losing her youth in front of me.
I know that it’s Dad’s fault and I hate him
for that.
But I
can tell he does, too.
I can’t
read Mom. I never could.
She
works her life away,
Quietly.
Raising
as much money as she can to support our hectic family.
Lately
Dad’s
been drinking more than he should.
And his
self-loathing needs an outlet.
He
takes it out mostly on Mom.
Sometimes
on me. But
Mostly
on
Mom.
Sometimes,
I wish
Dad
Would
Leave
Mom
alone.
I can
see now, as he yells at her.
The
wrinkles in her face grow,
Her
forehead crinkles,
Her
hair turning gray
Before
my eyes.
When
they fight, I wish.
I
hope to God she doesn’t fight back today.
I can
tell that when she fights back, she ages years.
More
than usual
I
contemplate going upstairs,
Hiding
the booze,
Running
away
With
Mom to watch over.
But I
know its no use.
I know
to give up.
Together
“We
speak in different voices.”
It’s
true.
Each
and every person has their own voice.
You
have yours and
I mine.
The six
of us, still young, but still fighting,
Step
toward the ones we love
“When
fighting with the ones we’ve loved.”
We
reach out a hand
The
fighting stops in surprise
Our
voices change with love
They
tolerate and bend to forgive
Our
loved ones.
“We
speak in desperate voices.”
Together,
as one, we decide
To
forgive
Our
loved ones.
We want
change for the better
We know
what to do
Nate is
the first,
He
touches his father’s shoulder
There
is no reaction, even if he expected one
“When
can we say what we’re thinking of?”
Nate
leans down and
Kisses
his father’s cheek.
Life
will get better. It always can.
