For My Mother. For My Father.
by Aaron Blair
All is well here, if you were wondering.
All is well here, even if you were not.
You only think of me as a player in your narrative.
You only ask me to echo the sentiments
you have already given a voice.
If I had never existed, you would have invented me.
As it is, I can still feel the sharpness of the knife
you used to carve my form from your imperfect flesh.
The way you remember it is that once you bled for me.
The way I remember it is that I haven't stopped bleeding since.
Posted on 04/02/2011
Copyright © 2023 Aaron Blair
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Mo Couts on 06/02/11 at 02:13 AM|
As someone who also has a rocky relationship with her parents, this one spoke volumes; thank you for this, Aaron.