THIS IS THE STAGE UPON WHICH WE NOW PLAY
............................
my brothers fold like rags,
they part like water
and flow around,
passive, aggressive, stunted
but grown,
they try to make a happy home,
all, but none have found their way.
and i have not fared much better.

the four of us, we try to form a bond.
but there is so much triangulation,
i lay these issue out like a war-map
to explain:

we are four fronts,
all allies, all enemies.

the queen, two princes, and the jack.

ACT I: WE LEARN THE WAY OF THINGS
.......................................
born and raised in chaos,
the queen was given power before she was of age,
responsibilities she could not carry,
but she was her brothers keeper.
the two princes were her playmates,
but she formed an alliance with the youngest,
that excluded the other and bred resentment
she didnt mean to, she just needed to know she was accepted
and loved above all others..even if just from one person.

children do not understand the concept of feelings beyond their own,
it is a mothers role to nuture, how can you expect that from a child
who needs nurturing herself? i could not see beyond my own need.
a guilt that has followed me like a shadow sewn to my feet.

the timid prince stood on the outside of that alliance,
alone and broken, feeling less that human, rejected.
an unsteady peace forms with acceptance of situation,
and more important things to fight about..

the devil wants to destroy the kingdom,
the mother wants to destroy her children,
this is a warzone in the urban front.
if you've been lucky enough to never see
what this kind of conflict is like,
consider yourself blessed.

so few things in life destroy you in your formative years.
we were marked with ashes,
burned by shrapnel,
aimed at by a sharp-shooter,
and eagle eyed woman with the mouth of a monster,
a tyrant with feet that make the noise that is the only warning
of her approach, hands flying over head like banks of incoming bombs.

Religion was her nuclear warhead.

we clung to so many things, life rafts in an ocean of emptiness,
we put blinders on in the form of denial,
other people live like this,
this isnt so bad,
this is just the way things are.
pray harder. avoid her. be perfect, burnt offerings and sacrifices
in the hopes that Kali will be pleased.
but nothing really ever pleases Kali.

time passes,
the princes and the queen find their orbit,
they find their balance in the battlefield,
they learn the rhythms of war-drums,
see the smoke on the horizon,
the learn the landscape, the topography of a family,
the learn to cope in dysfunction.

funny thing about coping in dysfunction.

the word 'cope' suggests something solid,
something even. logical and healthy.
i am coping means: its difficult but i am doing well despite this situation.
coping is a word a psychologist uses in a slow and steady way,
it is a soothing word. a firm bed to lay on. things will be ok.

but how do you cope in dysfunction?
there are so many jagged lines, so many landmines you must learn to navigate.
constant stress sets your nerves on fire,
you start to see threats in every eye, even in the smiles that flash occasionally.
no one behaves rationally. you start to understand how the world works, and why?
BECAUSE WHEN YOU ARE A CHILD
YOUR HOME IS YOUR LIFE.
life, in that great philosophical way.
you quickly learn about two-faces.
you learn about motives.
you learn about the dark and dirty side
of human nature.
and you will apply that to every person you meet
when your world expands beyond the boundaries
of the yard.

all we ever learned about life, we learned from my mother, at home.

the word 'cope' becomes just as fluid,
just as jagged. just as dark.
how do you cope with dysfuntion?
you become dysfunctional yourself. it is the ONLY way.

INTERMISSION
..................................................
i remember the day my youngest brother was born.
my mother laid in the bathtub for a good long time,
by now she was a 'pro' at giving birth.
i watched with horror as her belly rose and sank
with the waterline, every contraction moving her body in a way
it never did on T.V.
i couldnt watch.
the next frame of the film it is evening,
the sun is setting pink and orange over that tree in my
great grandmothers back yard,
i never knew the name of it..such an unusual tree
with fuzzy pink blooms..it facinated me.
the phone rings,
my mother apparently asks for me.
i am 10. a phonecall is a rarity.
a name. a weight. a birth date.
the lightning bugs were just starting to hang their lights above the grass.
.........................................................
ACT II: the JACK.
how do i explain?
anything that i would say would be taken the wrong way.
i was a child told not to BE a child,
she was a mother who would not BE a mother.
she mysteriously and without much warning
brought home a screaming bundle of needs
and put that bundle in my bedroom and expected ME...
i dont know what she expected of me.
to this day, i have no idea.
even at this age now, i cannot grasp why a newborn
would be put in a 10 year olds bedroom a floor above
the mothers room.
the little thing would scream and scream...
i loved it, i hated it. i took care of it, and tried to ignore it.
it was always crying.

at 14 the queen started trying to cope.
which took the form of long red lines in her skin.
burn marks, bruises all self inflicted.
a growing rage could only be released in one place,
on the canvas of her body.
alarming, indeed.

and thats the point the queen fell off the edge of that earth.

......................................................
ACT III: LIFE IN WARTIME MAKES REFUGEES OF US ALL

there was only ever one option,
grow up, move out.
i was first,
followed by the two princes,
which left the jack where he always was,
last and left behind.

he will never understand that there was never a choice.
his anger is greater than all of ours combined.
he is a timebomb waiting for the right time to fuck-up his life completely.

the princes face their own private demons,
they are scattered and caught in the wind,
and as much as i grasp for all three of them,
the coping mechanisms become a catch .22.

we are all survivors and casualties,
pawns and kings, queens and castles, we
are endlessly wandering,
relentless refugees of a war long over
and never ending.

05/25/2012

Posted on 05/25/2012
Copyright © 2026 Vikki Owens