I carried your ghost up the mountainside.
I carried your ghost in my dreams.
I carried your ghost out of my childhood
and into the dark hallways of a future
I had never imagined for either of us.
You, dead and decaying behind the house
where you raised my father.
Me, trapped inside,
bleeding from wounds I never expected to have.
You, who had once washed my nightgown free of red,
but didn't bother to inform me how hard it was
to be a woman bereft of choices.
Me, losing my innocence a slash at a time,
propping my eyes open with razor blades,
so that I would never be blind again.
Were you blind, too, or was that resignation?
Did you know my mother's need was an event horizon?
Did you love your husband more than
the unblemished skin of your children?
Did you see me?
Is this dark inside me his shadow,
or was it already there before?

05/17/2016

Posted on 05/17/2016
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Blair