Questions I Would Never Know the Answers To

A poem written in the point of view of someone who has lost her father

Questions I Would Never Know the Answers To

Fransivan MacKenzie

1. What does heaven look like without me by your side? Does the golden city gleam less without your daughter's presence? When the angels sing in chorus, do your eardrums itch searching for the shrill ring of my laughter?

2. Did you know that I almost kissed a boy when I was thirteen? He lived a block away and he deemed me a goddess after the night you took off, that moonless dark of June you left a note on a fridge and a mark on my mother's cheeks. Baby, I'm sorry. I'll see you someday soon.

3. Was it Grandpa or Grandma who greeted you first? Did you stumble on their arms the way I did on your return? Did you have a hint of them when you were in the blue hospital room playing tug-of-war with life? Did you tango your way into life feigning the steps the stars took while they danced their way into shining?

4. When you left me for the first time, did you know I blamed myself for asking way too many dolls? I cried for weeks while mom scrounged for every fat pill in the kitchen trying to nurse the exit wounds you left into the core of her being. She believed it was a crimson mess she deserved for loving a bullet in the shape of a man.

5. Are you a pair of shy eyes peeking from the clouds? Do you steal glances into this realm you've abandoned all of a sudden like you're so good at, taking note of how things have changed since your final exodus? Can you see me being rocked with tears every night to sleep? Have you sent out Orion the Hunter to watch over me?

6. Did you know that when I started High School, a boy with windswept hair and pierced tongue told me he loved me and I believed him? Since you've fallen out of your marriage and mom fell deep into the pit of crushed crystals, I tiptoed through the electric lip wire of anyone who found me attractive. I know you came back for me, but none of your flowers and extra bills could make up for the catastrophe we lived for years.

7. Should I inform guilt that you've changed your address? I can't keep my hands from opening the door everytime he rings the bell. Even when I answer that he is mistaken, he insists to step in. Did you sign my name into what supposed to be your home? Did you do it on purpose?

8. Why did you promise me a handful of forevers when you could have just treasured our todays with your presence? Why did you have to leave for a better life when you made me believe you were the Earth around my axis? When did you realize I wasn't enough? Why did you return only to leave again?

9. What does grieving look like if it isn't death itself? What does death look like if it isn't Cuervo spilled on the carpet or a week without leaving the bed? What does death look like if it isn't a series of creaks on the floorboard wishing to have a dance with a cadaver? If death had a magazine, I would be the covergirl - the daughter abandoned twice by the man she loves the most. The aftertaste of bourbon, of trauma, of snowflakes and foils, of emptying bottles to fill bottomless holes.

10. Did I flash in your head before the semi ran the red light? Did you see me as your hands were freed of the steering wheel? When you rolled into the hood of your car and into the pavements, was there a film that looped into the grey and white matter of your brain? Even just for a few seconds they remained intact, was I the last thought you held before you let go of everything else?

11. Do I forgive you again because I love you? Or do I forgive you again because I love you? What anthem shall I sing if not that of you leaving? What is forgiveness if not a violent aria that rips anyone who dares to mute it?

12. Now that you're gone, who would walk me down the aisle? Why did I ever think you would in the first place?

Reviews

[Judyf]

This poem sounds like a communication between the dead and living. I love it because it made see that there are ways to communicate with someone ain't there.

[Fransivan Writes]

Thank you!