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father, oh father
by Angela Thomasthe men in my life have defined me.
read that sentance again, please. it is the foundation,
the rock, the same, throughout all of humanity. at least,
the humanity that i am a part of. my father left my family
when i was only six years old. i blamed myself, i blamed
my brother and his illness, i blamed my mother for making
him stop loving her. eventually, i just blamed him. he was
a drug addict, hard and fast. he drank, he chased highs,
and along the way, some women. i chased men when i was
in high school. the twentyeight year old boyfriend reminded
me of security - he made it okay to have feelings. he age
justified some kind of maturity in my mind. he would not
become my father. but i would. college was filled
with ripe sheets, lovers torn between them, if only for a day.
i was sweet and fragrant, staining everything i touched, leaving
behind a path of destruction and memories. i consumed
men like i consumed drugs. looking for a never-ending euphoria
that never came. i drank my soul away until i crashed my body
one night into a damp ditch, was returned home by strangers
and had to face what i did. to myself. i stopped drinking at least
for a month. i finally found peace in a man that i believed
was unlike all of the others. i believed that he made his every
move with me at the center of his vision - that he was also
working for the one day when we would be together - in my heart,
he was dreaming of the day that i would march slowly down
an aisle, so that all of the people that ever knew me in my life
would see and would take notice. they would understand that this
formal procession was a public declaration. we would be together.
he would promise. i would promise. like my father, i was chasing
dreams. fleeting moments. forgotten pleasure. hedonistic and selfish,
taking from those in my life whatever they would give. i was not
my father anymore than i was the pope. i had become my own person,
chasing the man that i thought my father should have been. read
the sentance again, the men in my life have defined me. that is, until now. 05/25/2007 Posted on 05/25/2007
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 05/28/07 at 03:46 AM It's a tough wake-up call when we realize that until we become our own best friends and independent of any man (or other people) to make us who we are, then we will make the same mistake over again. You've written a very poignant and bittersweet reminder of that. Like you, for a long time, I defined myself by whether I had a man or not. (sentance = sentence)
~Chelle~ |
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