when reality kills, art resuscitates | a poem on ashen soil

you stole from me to feed yourself

and I found my voice amongst the scraps


you handed my body back to me

I opened the coffin

and you whispered take care of yourself


you observed me

and said to yourself

I’ll get my life back


you warmed her body

extracted from her

and she’d never comprehend

that she lost everything to you

until the cold came back


a child lost in toilet water

a sibling lost in the sewers


you relive the day that he died

you still can’t get to the bottom of things


you pointed all your fingers

but never looked closer

close enough


you never asked yourself

what have I done?


you carry a rage with you

that you could never release

never send back to its origins

nothing had ever been resolved

and you unleashed it on your children


rage is a subject

that replaced my father’s name


and I thought it was about us


my father carries ghosts in his head

the one that paralysed him the most is his own


they threatened him with it

and all he ever did was not die


I follow my father’s muted footsteps


silence is a cowardly blanket

sinking into the truth

stuffing apertures


the past leaks from my father’s pores


threats blowing on my father’s neck

contaminated children

I feel death close to home


my father’s rage is older than he is

unburied bombs, intact, from unforgotten wars


my father knows what money can do

he knows that money stands above humanity

he knows that money kills


he never made it out of the co-dependency


my father speaks with his ghosts

when he looks at me

and I live in a world

that I can’t see, can’t fathom


when reality kills,

art resuscitates.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s