Heirlooms in a Broken Family

Dripping poison,

Those little words,

Snarled,

Under the breath,

Then pushed out

With the stomach.

You passed on your mother’s china

To me, the first grandson to marry,

But you wanted to keep a teapot.

My wife wanted the entire set,

So, I said no.

That’s when you got nasty.

I don’t care what you do, you said.

Just sell it!

I had no intention of selling it.

Now that we’ve had it for a while,

We think we’ll pass it on

To your grandchildren.

Isn’t that what you would want?

Advertisement

Don’t Wake the Sleeping Giant

Don’t remember much,

From those years.

In the house,

But not a home.

Walking on eggshells,

So as not to wake

The sleeping giant.

Saying the wrong thing

Could instill rage

Overflowing like lava

From a volcano.

But it wasn’t my fault.

I wasn’t taught

How to avoid conflict,

And, really,

I shouldn’t have to.

I just wanted

Something to eat, or,

Someone to talk to.

Was that too much to ask?

Saying It Again

Does what’s already been said,

Need to be said again?

Perhaps. Maybe, if,

In a new way,

Or, maybe, if,

From a new person;

For, it’s not just

What is said, that matters,

But who says it, and,

Who they say it to,

And, Lord knows,

Just because it’s

In a book,

Doesn’t mean

It will be read,

Certainly not by everyone.

Knowledge

Do I know more now,

Then I did, back then?

What I know now,

Is how little I know.

When I was young,

I thought I knew everything.

I thought there wasn’t much

Left to learn.

How little I knew!

Much less than now,

And yet, the more I know,

The more I realize,

There is so much out there

That I know nothing about!

I have forgotten a lot

Of what I used to know.

But I am wiser, now,

Because now I know

That how much one knows

Doesn’t really matter.

But wisdom is precious,

And comes at a price.

I do not think so much

Of myself anymore.

I am humbled,

And I have suffered

Quite a bit.

Suffering has a way

Of showing a person

What is and who are

Really important.

Family and friends

Shouldn’t be taken for granted.

Love, above all,

Is to be cherished.

Freedom

When I see your face

I think of those

Whom I grew up around,

Messing with me

Whenever possible,

Invading my privacy,

Taking away my freedom.

But my freedom

Was intact.

It was my race

That took away

Their freedom.

They didn’t have

A fancy free childhood

Like me.

They weren’t given

Whatever they wanted,

And weren’t free

To go wherever

And with whomever

They wanted, like me.

Their parents couldn’t afford

To buy them a computer.

They didn’t have

Highly educated parents

To help them

With their homework.

They had to worry

If they’d have breakfast

Each day,

And dinner was nonexistent.

No, my freedom

Was not taken.

They were just reminding me

That they were there,

And they deserved

Freedom too.

And when they saw me,

They saw privilege,

Someone who couldn’t imagine

What it is like

To really struggle to get by;

Someone who didn’t appreciate

How much freedom they had.

Indeed.

Reconciliation

Walking, trying, bleeding.

Striving, crying, pleading.

Is there a way

Out of this mess?

Can you feel

My vocal caress?

Wondering why

We never learn.

Easy as pie

To make a turn.

Can we put

Our heads together?

Feel the burn

Of the whipping leather.

Know the fear

Of a trapped body and soul.

Find a way out

Of this evil role.

Someday soon

We will realize

Why we are

So despised.

A mystery of sorts,

But not without a clue.

We must find a way

To make things new.

Living

Living is good. Living with wishing grows old. Wondering is confusing. Caring is nice. Downtime is a relief. Little ones are cute and sweet. Unhappy little ones can be stressful, crying and screaming and all. Cold takes its toll. It can be overwhelming. Sometimes I just want to get under a warm blanket and go to sleep. Sometimes rest is what I need. Honestly, I’m not lazy. I just get anxious when things are busy, or crowded, or loud. I like to have my old dog or my chubby cat cuddling with me. I’m starting to get old too. My idea of a good time is not as excitingly sounding as it used to be. I like a comfy chair and a good book. A hot iced cinnamon sweetbread is nice too.