Author’s Note: Below is an excerpt from “Rejection Therapy” by Takier George, a hybrid collection of narrative poetry/fiction.
Memories From My Father’s Ashes
I think if I didn’t see it less people would expect me to talk about it
I was never a daddy’s girl
And I had never seen him so tall before
As he hung, he was so close to the sky
So close to God
So far from me that all I could do was stare.
When Mama got home, she screamed for him
Then, she was screaming at me
I thought you only spoke so loudly
When trying to call someone
In another room
But there we were,
All together
I yelled
“STOP!”
And she did
The room was still
As still as it was before she entered
As still as the rope daddy held on to
I was too young then to mourn a lost goodbye
But now, I wonder why he never held me as close as he held the sky
From the ages of 10 to 12, I didn’t speak
Or at least no one could hear me
From the ages of 10 to 12, I didn’t speak
I wasn’t Emori, I was “that girl who can’t talk”
From the ages of 10 to 12, I didn’t speak
Well, I didn’t speak to people I didn’t know. Mama heard me
From the ages of 10 to 12, I didn’t speak
But I watched. I watched the way people lived. I knew enough about death
From the ages of 10 to 12, I didn’t speak
At first, they tried to make me, but eventually they gave up
From the ages of 10 to 12, I didn’t speak
Daddy took my tongue with him and refused to give it back
From the ages of 10 to 12, I didn’t speak
And I didn’t pray to a God who wouldn’t hear me
I think Daddy took more of me with him than just my tongue
Either way, from the ages of 10 to 12, I didn’t speak
If My Mother’s I Love You Was a Prayer
On Sundays, she’d pray
She found his sin washable
Loved him despite it
You cannot save everyone
Especially men like him
She spoke in scriptures
Led his finger down the page
Sanctified his heart
Her i love you was a prayer
That still sits in his dresser
His hands never met
In prayer, she’d reach out instead
Reaching up to God
Her last resort was gospel
His last resort was heaven
Comments