I haven’t spoken with my parents in 167 days. One of the last things said to me by my mother is “we still love you.” That’s great, but y’all condemned me for speaking up and calling out a racist member of the family. Might be posting more on that later. I’ve spent 173 days thinking about sharing what my father said to me via email.
To be honest, no one in the family really ever listens to me, for I am still little “Krissy” in their eyes for some stupid reason. So I decided to disconnect instead. Why bother being family if no one is going to back me up? I’ve never been one to toe the line. They know this. And yet they expect otherwise.
So here is a poem I wrote regarding the phrase my mother likes to say at the worst possible time…
We Still Love You
Those are the words, always said
To my heart, so full of dread
After I did something “wrong”
And didn’t feel as if I belong.
These simple words, she claimed true
Stung my heart, hole right through
And left me sad, wondering why
No other choice, I must comply.
Now grown, away from home
Free to think, thoughts my own.
A rising phoenix, I stand tall.
Shedding ashes, I give my all.
Burn away, old bits of mind
Heart beats on, clock of life.
Old dusty hours, sink into dirt.
Bleeding flowers, bloom with hurt.
Garden heart, must plow along
Sowing hope, here seeds belong.
Mercy drained out, to your doom.
Words remain, heart’s empty tomb.