Ill-Fated

They say if you save a life,
That person becomes forever indebted
But there was no life to save
Just my life to raise
So I emerge not indebted, but rather embedded
Into a life laid out for me
With the expectation to meet my fate eagerly

But before I accept such a miserable fate
Mom, please won’t you excuse me while I fall from grace
Because Dad I’m sorry, I’m not sorry
That within the trenches of disgrace
I find my place

It wasn’t always this way
When I was young I dreamt of a family united,
Not to inherit a lineage divided
I closed my eyes and envisioned a father who worked a 9-5
And still reveled in returning to his loving wife and children
But my daydreams were interrupted
By the murmuring of soft, hollow voices
Ricocheting off the walls  
Relaying the stories of my father’s betrayals
Of the women he loved as often as he left
Everyone blind to the children
Witnessing their world crumble on the doorstep

In the words of Buddha, “attachment is the root of all suffering”
That could explain why my father reneged on his promise to raise me
It’s hard to become attached to things
When you view everything temporally,
Even the responsibility that birth brings

I read in a textbook once that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction
Thus, I wonder if my final memory of you turning your back and leaving
Simultaneously marked your entrance into yet another unsuspecting family

I dreamt of being your opposite,
Vowed to carve out my existence
As I erased your presence from my memory
But in moments of doubt
I began to ask myself
Whether my efforts were in vain
Questioning if my aspirations would continue to be
Asphyxiated by familial ties and biological tendencies
That kept me following in your footsteps with no will left

Naturally like father like daughter
Through the course of my adolescence and adulthood
My heart mirrored a revolving door
As I replaced an absence with another presence
As a means of distraction
Since I too learned that loving from a distance
Quelled my anxiety toward commitment
If only temporarily
Dad, I’m sure you’d agree

Nevertheless, eventually like a snake
I slithered out of the tired, worn skin of my father’s daughter
And watched as the women of my family
All gathered around the table
Swapping stories of their aspirations in past tense
As if the past was irrelevant
Because it was

As my mother recalls childhood dreams
She glows as though in the presence of the sun
But once my father emerges from the recesses of her memory
The gentle curves of her face
Swiftly sharpen
Soon she too would be aware of this transformation
As her once blossoming, bountiful cheeks slowly cracked and crumbled
Revealing a reflection foreign, yet familiar with time

Like my mother, I too find myself peering into the mirror
My gaze lingering
Because within the reflective surfaces of dimly lit bathrooms,
Store windows,
And the screen of my phone
I am reminded
I am reminded that my reflection is a collection of pain
Etched into my skin like Egyptian hieroglyphics  

For my grandmother,
It was the neglect of her father and the betrayal of her husband
That flowed freely through her veins as she gave birth to my mother
Who was abused by her father and rejected by her lover
Who then gave birth to me,
Who was abandoned by her father

Thus, the pain I carry is not my own
It has existed before me and will continue to persist long after my day is done
I await the day when the force of these demons overcomes my strength
Until my position becomes fixed like Atlas
All the while wondering who will shoulder this pain
Once my bones are too brittle and too weak
To sustain this ill-fated lineage much further

But before I accept such a miserable fate
Mom, please excuse me while I fall from grace
Because Dad I’m sorry, I’m not sorry
That within the trenches of disgrace
I find my place