By twerteen

Air escapes me and I force back tears. His fist of rock iron to my abdomen cannot undo me. Fireworks explode in the distance.

Mother gazes on. Sympathetic. Stoic.

I am knitted from her womb, sturdier than iron. Mother is Gaia. I am virgin coal, he is molten anger only cooled by soft waves of alchohol.

Fists unclench. Strong hands that sometimes hold me in the wake of delirious nightmares reach for his gin bottle.

I swallow my pain. Hold my chin high. He approvingly passes me a sparkler.

Ill-matched love made me a diamond.

Happy Independence Day.

I write because it’s better to let all the things that go bump in the night loose on paper, rather than let them crawl around inside my head.

5 thoughts on “Breathless

    1. Thank you. I had to do a lot of work to get there (funny how an abusive parent can transfer their issues onto their kids) but my father and I have a good relationship now. It involves boundaries, and acceptance, and understanding (my father was abused himself, then went to Vietnam, which caused further trauma). Forgiveness is so much more powerful, and less self destructive, than anger (for me). 💟

      Liked by 1 person

  1. The whole event involved the fetching of a lighter, and the distraction shared by youth…and a hamster. None of which were (are) important, but I carry that day in my pocket like a talisman.

    We can all be diamonds, if that’s what we choose.


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