It Was Not Me Who Chose

My life, with all its jagged edges.

 

 

I never asked you to climb into bed

with your husband’s best friend

in a storm of fur and feathers and wed

yourself to bitter end.

 

I never asked you to drive my father

into that gnarled old tree,

snapping his neck, leaving you to bother

with my sister and me.

 

I never asked you to furrow the soil

and cleave the earth apart,

to spend your days in illusory toil

striking stone with your heart.

 

I never asked you to extinguish light

in favor of the dark,

to deny the daughters that shined so bright

that should have left their mark.

 

I never asked you to sully the streams,

to sin so none could tell

to make a mockery of hopeful dreams

and sentence them to hell.

 

I never asked you to keep your affair

walled up in bricks of lies

that crumbled around you and stung the air

in newborn baby cries.

 

I never asked you to stumble and fall

to wilt beside the rose

to then blame me when you forfeited all.

It was not me who chose!

 

I never asked you for a goddamned thing.

I never asked. It’s true!

How am I to blame for everything

when it was always you?

 

I never asked for your violent hand,

the bruises on my skin,

the striking of your contemptuous band

that played my heart within.

 

I never asked to be burdened and bound

blacker than black is black

to be beaten by hate and thrown around

with marks across my back.

 

I never asked for an ocean of tears

to spill into my heart

to suffer your hatred for fourteen years

at eighteen to depart.

 

I never asked for the snakes in your eyes,

the venom in your stare,

the way you would smite the sunniest skies

and break them in your lair.

 

I never asked for your insanity,

the ebbs that brought you low,

nor the self-narcissistic vanity

no child should ever know.

 

I never asked you for a single thing;

and when my life shall close

and fold in forever its broken wing,

it was not me who chose!

 

 

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Dean]

a near-exhaustive study of excoriation that I am sure hits its mark, real or fantasied. You are able to achieve excellence regardless of the range of subject matter, and this piece is an excellent example! Congrats to one of my favorite poets--and people!

[rav1209]

I really liked the flow of this piece and the repetition was a nice touch. I wish you much luck with the rest of your writing as well as in life. Have a good day.

[Mark]

Another troubling paean to the torment women suffer, and tolerate for GOd knows what reason. Even from a man's perspective, I will NEVER comprehend why Men are so graceless in the receipt of the manifold blessing which is Woman. My own father was one such, and coincidentally, my mother finally wised up in HER eighteenth year of drunken stupors, violence and neglect. Your story therefore is one which I will never comprehend, though i know it intimately. Beautifully writ, mi amiga.

[Eric]

I don't usually read much poetry, but this was as authentic and moving as I've read in a long time.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Well, hello, Eric. Seeing as how you don't read much poetry, I feel honored to have had you read mine. :-) Authentic, it most definitely is, a bit of a stirring of my life. Thank you again.

[Eric]

That's never an easy experience, but the test of character is how we grow from the circumstances we are given. You certainly have creative talent, I'm definitely interested to read more of your work.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

No, it's not an easy experience; but it definitely created a resilient streak within me and a strength to rise above it all. Well, as far as I can rise above it, that is. Sometimes, I still visit that old city of myself; and it's like another time and another place, a world away really. Yet, it will ever remain a part of who I am.

I see you are quite the prolific writer. I will have to friend you so that I can return the favor of a review. I hope to hear more from you.

[Mark]

"That Old City of Myself"...I feel a title coming on...Now it's a race to see which of us makes a poem out of that title first! Ya up for it, Sistah?

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

LOL! Hello, Mark. While not a title for a poem, I have already written this within the poem, The Last Flower. It's actually one of the few unrhymed, unmetered pieces that I've written. Feel free to run away with the title, as I look forward to seeing where you will go with it. :-) Nice to see you.

[Christyn Jeffries]

What you have written here is one of the deepest and most touching poems I have ever read. I understand a little of the pain and anger you feel. My father betrayed my mother and me. I can only say, you are a wonderful writer. Pen on.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Christyn,

Thank you so very much for your thoughtful review. I think it's one of the greatest sadnesses of all that anyone should be able to relate to this poem, but I home it brings some measure of comfort to know that you're not alone.

[Christyn Jeffries]

Thank you. I wish I was alone in this, and that good, caring parents were the rule instead of the exception. I was, however, blessed with a wonderful, caring mother, so I feel I'm more lucky than many.

[Pax]

Sigh…

The overall feel of this piece, is quite overwhelming. The emotions matched the well rhyme uproar. It’s quite powerful. How you open up your heart, the sadness just keeps pouring and the emotional scars just bleeds through.

The repetition of “I never asked”, is simple powerful. It spoke of many choices – broken promises & mistakes. In the opening verses, it makes me believed that few men around the globe are more prone to suicide when heartbroken. Maybe most of men don’t cry much, even I don’t cry much, or don’t know how to handle too much anger and frustration from the one very closed to them. Even me, I will never knew what will I do in this situation. It’s a hard case. But death is not an option to me, that’s just me. I am sorry about your father.

I have talk about this before, and I have heard about it somewhere that, it is better to have just physical abuse, than to have both physical and emotional abuse. Because both can mark you, or haunt your whole being, the memories will always lingers.

Maybe in that foolish mistake you mother did. The thing that you’re father had done, it shatter something within your mother, to have chosen the darken path of life. And you are living the side effects of what she had done. Perhaps too much regret bottle up.

To open it up all in this piece, bring a lot of courage and strong will to just release everything all up, the things that you have said and unsaid to put into words in a very creative manner.

An admirable piece, well done!

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Pax. I can't help but to pour my life into my work. It is who I am; and anyone wanting to know me, will find me best in my poetry. While I write across many genres, I am more drawn to writing about what I know. For me, the most impactful part of my journey was my childhood, my father's suicide, my mother's abuse (mental, physical, emotional) and abandonment, the lack of family, abuse at the hands of others, etc. I always want to find beauty in the light, and I feel that's best done by sharing these experiences. I appreciate your review. Thank you so much.

[Pax]

you are very welcome. :)
I admire your strenght ms. Lin, perhaps poetry for us will always be a piece of us, a certain fragment that just keeps on pouring everytime we write. Sharing the experiences, brings a quite relaxing feeling. and I am glad you have shared them.

[wordman]

this is a powerful write full of anguish and quiet pain
loss and all bottled up exploding at once

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review this poem. Sometimes the hardest ones to write are the ones that need to be written the most.

[wordman]

yeah they build up until you explode and they have to come out then

[David Scott]

I felt the heartbreak and anger in this write. It felt like righteous indignation. Sometimes we have to get it out. It needs to be said.
One point I wonder about, did you mean to say "me" instead of " I " in the title?
Anyhow, we have to "play the cards we are dealt". It will never be fair, but it can be fabulous. We alwYs have some choices thankfully and we can define our lives by our choices not those others made.

I think this write felt necessary.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

What an astute observation! I struggled with the "Me" and "I" as well. While I think the "I" is probably more grammatically correct, the poem itself called for the "Me," if that makes any sense at all. Thank you for reading and thank you for the review. Happy New Year.

[David Scott]

I totally get the use of "me" for artistic reasons. This poem was about a cry for a failing mother to stop and think of "ME " for once... ( I think ). Ha.
That's why I asked instead of "telling" you. Of course I have made more obvious errors by mistake myself, so I thought I should at least ask.
Again, I think the write was very purposeful.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, David. This one definitely demanded to be written. :-)

[fireblossom]

Life has its way with us. Stop and get a coffee and miss the bullet that fills the space you would have shared...or perhaps you are on time for the bullet. Life can seem like a creature when in reality it simply is just life. Your poem looks from the human and thus common point of view and illustrates life so very well.

A worthy and worth while read.

[icelandicblue]

One of the strongest pieces I have read in a long time. Your language is powerful, I felt you were taking that power back from your abuser with strength and anger. No child should be asked to cover things up or to take the blame when life is hard. There are those who never step up to the plate and take the heat, it's so much easier to crush the more vulnerable, it is a cowards way. I am sorry you had to endure this because it feels much too real to be fictional. And when your wings finally fold you will still hold your head high. We cannot choose our childhoods but the path we take from there belongs to us and the abuser is on her own; as she should be. A disturbing piece but there is so much abuse out there, people need to be aware it exists.