Even After the Darkest Night, the Sun Will Always Rise
It's 2:00am and I felt compelled to write this… For my own mental health, sadly. Faith came to mind – I think she is a fascinating character to explore… perhaps because because we have things in common…
Story begins dark, but has a happy ending.
…And I rarely write poetry and this is the first time I have ever showed it… So, please keep that in mind :)
Sitting in my room, the lights softly aglow
I pause as I watch TV.
There! I hear a sound from below,
The most frightening sound for me.
The faint whisper of a yell,
Marks the arrival of hell.
I tremble as the words reach my ear-
"Bitch" "Whore" are all I hear.
He's at it again,
With a drink in his hand.
Cursing my mother,
Saying he doesn't love her.
I scoff; it's always the same,
Round 5,000 of the drinking game.
But I'm a big girl now,
Not one to throw in the towel.
I march down the stairs,
Full of angry cares.
'I'll make him stop this time,
Make him see the truth of his crimes',
Is what I say in my mind,
Because surely he would never hurt 'no daughter of mine'.
But he does.
"Stick up for her, you will little bitch?"
He says without his breath taking a hitch.
"Stop being cruel & leave her alone!"
With shaky breath I barely avoiding a moan.
His eyes are what get me the most,
As if his body is merely playing host.
To something darker, something Unseen
That compels him to drink and be mean.
I pause; is this truly my dad?
The person who makes me feel so bad?
The short answer is Yes, the longer is No-
But as I ponder this he calls me a ho.
I steel myself against his angry glaze,
As he spirals further into a drunken craze.
Holding back my tears,
I promptly lock up my fears.
As he yells I try to remain calm,
And think of a spiritual psalm.
But when again he calls mother a whore,
My body decides I can't take anymore!
"You think you can cast the first stone?"
As my adrenaline gets me in the zone.
I began to rant and rave,
Feeling suddenly brave.
"Your're a drunk, you smoke pot,
And is that all you got?
Oh, yeah – you're also an asshole,
Who doesn't even have a soul!"
Eyes defiant, legs standing strong,
He doesn't even pause to consider my song.
"Shut it, you're nothing to me," are the words that he said,
The ones I cannot seem to get out of my head.
My body begins to tremble with rage,
I feel like a starved tiger locked in a cage.
I want to hunt, I want to take my claws and main,
- and yes- I know those are not thoughts of the sane.
For just a second I imagine the scene,
'Dad Murdered by Abused Teen!"
My hands would take his favorite carving knife,
Right across the throat; I would take his life.
Blood would gush and blood would spill,
My alcoholic father would be my first kill.
But then reality sets in,
And no matter what he is kin.
I wonder: Am I weak?
To always turn the other cheek?
No matter what the abuse is never ending,
I doubt the relationship is even up to mending.
I want to take my mother and leave,
To end the abuse and take a reprieve.
But one thing holds us back:
Cash is something we severely lack.
Not to mention mom is mentally unstable,
She can't care for herself; she's isn't physically able.
Sigh. It's finally died down,
For that I thank the King without a Crown.
The drunk has passed out asleep,
Unaware of the damage he pushed in so deep.
I return to my bedroom,
Which may as well be my tomb.
For tonight another part of my spirit has died,
Being a child of an alcoholic certainly has a downside.
The worst part of it all,
Is the play that we call:
Because in the light of day,
No one will be able to say,
Anything about the hurt and the pain,
That's driving our family insane;
Even though the memories of the night,
Often cut through me like a knife.
We just pretend it doesn't exist,
Even though those demons continually persist.
Faith Lehane Wood read over the poem not once, but twice,
The age old paper was caught between her fingers in a vise.
Her fingers shook slightly and tears ran down her face,
She brushed them off, ashamed of her disgrace.
Her arm curled protectively over her round belly,
As she whispered lovingly to her future daughter Kelly.
"When I was growing up, my life was bad,
But YOU, you'll have things I never had.
A mommy and a daddy who'll shower you with love,
You'll be blessed by every deity above.
Not matter what, this I promise you,
Life, Liberty, and Happiness will be yours to pursue."
Then Faith put the poem back in her box of childhood things,
Pausing only a moment to collect her bearings.
She walked down the stairs to give her man a kiss,
Feeling thankful that in her life she had finally found bliss.
Because Even After the Darkest Night, the Sun Will Always Rise.
Let me know if you like it, Reviews are the nectar of the Gods – as well as fanfic writers ;)
Con mucho amor,