ours is not to reason why

You are the reason I lie, when my

Friends ask why, oh why, I would ever

Choose to abandon my home and

My sister and brothers, my father

And mother to evanesce to the home

That was not mine before.


Your fists are the reason I learnt

not to cry, when I explain, slowly,

Softly, omitting the truth of the home

To which I was born, of how and why

It came to be I left my family, and

Why now I live with another.


Her blood is the reason I grew to

Love another maternal and distance

Myself from those I should have been

Closest to, who shared my past and

Bore the scars that I bore, deep and fresh,

Never healed.


You are the reason why I wince

When I hear the blaring of sirens or

The crying of women, the screaming of

Children, too young to understand that

It is not true pain they feel, as they

Stomp feet for a chocolate, or sweet.


You are the reason I can never stay, too

Long in the presence of one person, the

Reason I fear at every turn that I antagonize,

Or spurn; because it was always my fault,

The reason you would scream and shout,

Swing and hit; strike.


You are the reason, even now, I can never

Truthfully say that I was happy, am happy,

Can never feel love without condition or that

I am undeserving of hatred of scorn, or

That life is just and full of love. The reason I

will always fear and fret.


You are the reason I fear alcohol, and myself,

That I should be you, your shadow or duplicate

The actions you once cast; that I will be the beast

I saw destroy his home, our home, who threw plates

And yanked hair; threw a body down the stairs

And never thought of consequence of action.


You are the reason that I blamed myself,

not you, for years, my life, believing I caused

The strife in our family, the divide; that my birth

Was cursed and broken- a devil sent omen that

Split and separate, destroyed, burnt, desecrated

Our family home from love and happiness to a

Broken, beaten woman and an angry, raging father.


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