Does it feel like I’m standing on a pedestal,
lining up facts to throw at you
like pies in the face:
Is that where the education you sacrificed
so much to get me has left us?
One longing to be understood;
one in another world,
where fathers raise belts
and call their daughters stupid
and cheat on their wives,
make their daughters believe it,
even at 55?
Is that why you look away?
I feel threatening,
on another plane,
a plane you do not think
you are capable of reaching?
I am sorry, mom.
I never meant to make you feel alone,
abandoned, like he did.
I never meant to shut you out of another world.
He was wrong.
Look at all the choices you have made:
look at all you have created for yourself,
for your children.
I want to look you in the eye,
tell you you are smart before beautiful,
that it is okay to talk about difficult times
and keep going with no interruptions
until you run out of words.
I want to tell you how proud I am of you,
how lucky I am to be your daughter.
What different lives we have lived,
both birthed from the same stone.
We are humming, we are singing,
and we will dance, hand in hand, soon.
November 22, 2018