OPUS Mag

Far from timid • Caveat Lector

Aren't You Glad? - a poem

Aren't You Glad? - a poem

Aren’t you glad he left you?

Your father, with his propensity for

Manipulating your mother and

Digging his nails into

Chronic wounds

As if his lessons of taciturn abandon weren’t

Enough to paralyze the

Systematic process of healing, as if

The way he conditioned you to

Find beauty in being forsaken didn’t

Render you helpless to the emotional abuse of suitors

Because, love

Should feel this way, it should

Pierce repeatedly and aggressively into

Your skin, until your divinity begins

To slowly leak, leaving traces of you in

Every place you’ve been, sending

Desperately broken and empty vessels

Thirsting for just a small portion of the god that

Illuminates from within

But somehow, also rests there

Sealing the slits in your wrists, though you’ve

Been forgotten, disregarded and beaten

Though the scars from the rope still burn

You are the ancestors’ intentions, manifest

Aren’t you glad he left? You. He did.

Your father, with his tendency to

Break things, deceitful eyes and

Clumsy hands,

Who only returns to undo healing

And reiterate his lessons in releasing forgiveness

To those undeserving and

Relentless, in his

Walking in and out of you

Staining the remnants of your love left

                         Behind after he broke your heart for the

Very last time

Preferring his spilt seed over the

Love in your mother’s eyes

Opening and closing the door

In your face until you learned to expect it

To yearn for it, to desire it

The being left

The chase

The feeling of being wanted

Elevating him to the throne of gods

Because just one moment in his arms

To feel beautiful

Protected

And small

Like little girls do

When fathers’ come to mothers’ whole

As opposed to crashing into their chest

Running from another woman’s arms

Your father left. Are you not glad?

You didn’t inherit his selfishness

But you sure got his charm

Now you give and you give and you give

And when night falls, you rest

In your bed of rage

Righteous and holy

And the revolving door of men lying next to you

Resembles the man

Who finally stopped returning

But left pieces of you

As he went on his way

And you exhale

When no one’s looking

Because at least

He’s finally gone.

Aren’t you glad?

Photo Series: 92 Bricks - 51st Brick

Photo Series: 92 Bricks - 51st Brick

Celtics Trade Deadline Reaction

Celtics Trade Deadline Reaction