At Least It's Not A Revolution

The world doesn't always come full circle - even when it looks that way. Non-graphic mentions of childhood abuse.

On your first birthday you reached

forward, you used to tell us,

leaned forward and held on

though the candle burnt your fingers.

 

Your father comforted you

but he wasn't interested in his sons.

 

By the time you were 3

his hands were turning the nights to secret places

and painting you into a desert.

 

It was in that year your Daddy walked away

and you knew (in the way that children always know),

the glue that was you wasn't enough.

 

He wasn't interested in his sons,

and that, too, was down to you.

 

Where are you now?

 

When you were 18,

on your niece's first birthday,

she reached forward,

leaned forward and held on

though the candle burnt her fingers.

Author's Note

I don't even remember when I wrote the original for this, but I found it when I was cleaning out some papers today. Did a bit of rewriting/reworking, but I don't think it's been online anywhere before regardless. As always, critique of all kinds is welcome and encouraged.

Thank you for your time in reading and reviewing!

Reviews

[Emily B]

some fathers are only interested in sons

and daughters are left to wander, intriguing write

[Jessica Harmony]

I love this dawni! :D

[Anicca]

I loved this. Another fantastic piece that asks (and answers) a lot of questions. Very subtle but eery at the same time. Thanks for sharing.

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

you've written a engaging and deeply affecting story within the body of a poem~like frames of moving images you've created a vivid and cinematic poetic with a moving aura~incorporated a gorgeous yet somewhat disturbing mystery with the last stanza~ surreal nuances enhance the quality~