Monday, March 19, 2007

Undertow

I expected my father's death
to draw the ocean to my feet,
the water threatening to bear me
away with it--not mother's.
Our voices were constant coils
of disagreement; my hair was too long.
I was too thin. My clothes were too tight.
My mish-mash of dishes would never do
if the relatives came down for Christmas.
I lived 'in sin' with a man, traveled with him,
tossed away my bra to her mortification.
After my knees buckled
and this illness pinned me to my bed of thorns,
the core of metal between us softened,
became a pillow to rest our heads upon, but
she slipped quietly into that undertow
and I was left alone on the beach, a girl again,
weeping.

12 comments:

Addicted to your Blog said...

I'm glad to come across your Blog. Some interesting write-ups from your side.

Helen Losse said...

tender and beautiful, full of love

Pris said...

Thank you both so very much.

Pris

gautami tripathy said...

I had some issues with my dad. Now that he is gone, I miss him terribly.

That iswhat is love of parents is all about...

Thanks for making me cry, pris!

Lyle Daggett said...

Oh, Pris, this is so lovely, and so sharply sad. "And I was left alone on the beach, a girl again,/weeping."

Thanks so much for posting this.

Pris said...

Guatami...yes, they're gone and you wish...

Lyle, thank you.

Pat Paulk said...

Amazing how quickly love can melt the strongest fortifications. Beautiful poem Pris!!!

Pris said...

So true. Thanks, Pat.

pepektheassassin said...

A sad commentary. We all come to this point. I appreciate you!

Ellen M Johns said...

Wonderful writing Pris.

Especially these two lines...

''the core of metal between us softened,
became a pillow to rest our heads upon,''

Annie Wicking and Loman Austen said...

That's wonderful... Such words well spoken...

best wishes

Annie

Pris said...

pepe, annie...ellen..thank you so much.