Quiet, he says nothing.
He doesn't tell me what's on his mind.
"Please tell me something!"
I tell stories, I smile, I cry, I yell...
still he's quiet.
A lover reminded me of someone.
He laughs.
Weak people are a joke.
He considers himself better.
I start to choke.
A friend reminded me of someone.
Sneaky, smart and skeptical,
I saw this man many times in them,
they were my father,
for his sins I got grafted in...
those men, my father...
what?
My faaathhher!
* * *
Love, what was that to him?
Did it perform?
This is why I went out on a limb.
Did it suit a purpose?
What was the relevancy?
"Look at my certificates, want to see, want to see, Daddy!?"
When love caused pain, it was pushed away.
No talking, TV is on...
better not have much to say.
Children.
Seen not heard.
An attempt was made to change the father's past.
He had sex, planned for family--way too fast.
Conversation invited criticism,
shut the poor child's mouth up!
Shout her down!
He sipped too much from a cup.
Go back to being seen, not heard.
"Don't say this...
Don't say that...
If you tell..."
Old devil wearing a hat.
What was I supposed to do again?
What was I supposed to hide?
Good man walking,
my emotions were taking me for a ride.
good girl, no talking--
just a relative and a friend to confide.
Repressed memories,
revealed truth.
Harsh words
ruined a child's self esteem.
Angry hands
caused a child to fear men.
Control, control must have control--
he invited a spirit of confusion.
This wasn't discipline!
Recalled why getting shoved was okay,
why being called names was alright,
learned to formulate scripts on what to say...
why grabbing received a pass from a lover--
too many times in one day.
Didn't wonder anymore why childhood triggers
pushed me into the arms of what the patriarch said was,
"No Good N*ggers!"
I could understand,
even if he too was a black man.
The power of the pen,
freed me, wrote my way out of misery.
Thought back to the past,
realized why love didn't last.
Tired of the blame, caught up in the shame,
being exposed, he didn't want to feel lame.
"So shut that child up,
put something in that cup...
leave me alone,
don't bother to phone."
I heard it all in his tone.
Destroyed false beliefs,
wasn't going back to provide any reliefs.
Moving on with this thing called, life,
being healed from one particular strife.
God sees all and
pride comes before
a man's fall.
Nicholl McGuire is the author of Say Goodbye to Dad and other books.
He doesn't tell me what's on his mind.
"Please tell me something!"
I tell stories, I smile, I cry, I yell...
still he's quiet.
A lover reminded me of someone.
He laughs.
Weak people are a joke.
He considers himself better.
I start to choke.
A friend reminded me of someone.
Sneaky, smart and skeptical,
I saw this man many times in them,
they were my father,
for his sins I got grafted in...
those men, my father...
what?
My faaathhher!
* * *
Love, what was that to him?
Did it perform?
This is why I went out on a limb.
Did it suit a purpose?
What was the relevancy?
"Look at my certificates, want to see, want to see, Daddy!?"
When love caused pain, it was pushed away.
No talking, TV is on...
better not have much to say.
Children.
Seen not heard.
An attempt was made to change the father's past.
He had sex, planned for family--way too fast.
Conversation invited criticism,
shut the poor child's mouth up!
Shout her down!
He sipped too much from a cup.
Go back to being seen, not heard.
"Don't say this...
Don't say that...
If you tell..."
Old devil wearing a hat.
What was I supposed to do again?
What was I supposed to hide?
Good man walking,
my emotions were taking me for a ride.
good girl, no talking--
just a relative and a friend to confide.
Repressed memories,
revealed truth.
Harsh words
ruined a child's self esteem.
Angry hands
caused a child to fear men.
Control, control must have control--
he invited a spirit of confusion.
This wasn't discipline!
Recalled why getting shoved was okay,
why being called names was alright,
learned to formulate scripts on what to say...
why grabbing received a pass from a lover--
too many times in one day.
Didn't wonder anymore why childhood triggers
pushed me into the arms of what the patriarch said was,
"No Good N*ggers!"
I could understand,
even if he too was a black man.
The power of the pen,
freed me, wrote my way out of misery.
Thought back to the past,
realized why love didn't last.
Tired of the blame, caught up in the shame,
being exposed, he didn't want to feel lame.
"So shut that child up,
put something in that cup...
leave me alone,
don't bother to phone."
I heard it all in his tone.
Destroyed false beliefs,
wasn't going back to provide any reliefs.
Moving on with this thing called, life,
being healed from one particular strife.
God sees all and
pride comes before
a man's fall.
Nicholl McGuire is the author of Say Goodbye to Dad and other books.
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