Thursday, March 13, 2014


Father in the air now. Father everywhere. I watched my father take his last breath and the doctor said, “He’s gone.” But the doctor was wrong. My father more present after death than when alive. I thought I’d be free of needing to please him, but now that he wasn’t with a body, he showed up uninvited and often. He’d climb into my throat when I sang, worked my hands on the keyboard, and put a wall between myself and potential boyfriends. I finally had to start laying down the law. You can’t come here. Not now. Eventually, I see now he only wanted to help, so I make spirit errand requests. Keep me safe. Heal the harm. 

1 comment:

  1. It seems that in addition to writing a memoir, you are writing a collection of poems. I love these.