Poetry On Odyssey: Your Father And I
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Poetry On Odyssey: Your Father And I

Then they move on, just like that. And everything's okay again, except it's not.

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Poetry On Odyssey: Your Father And I

It is said that children learn what they live. For example, if a child lives with fear, they will learn to be apprehensive. If a child lives with approval, they will learn to like themselves. But just because a child is still learning, it doesn't mean that he/she does not know things that are outside the realm of what they have been taught. Children are incredibly perceptive, and they have the remarkable ability to see through things so simply and so clearly. So parents: the next time you think your child couldn't possibly understand the complexity and depth of what is just "mommy and daddy talking things out," think again.

Your Father and I

They scream until
their voices give out.
Their words scratch and claw
at each other's throats
until they're nothing but split, slit, shredded
skin and bones.
They fight
until one is left beaten
and the other bent.

Who won?
I can never tell —
neither, in my opinion.
But they don't want to hear
my opinion because
I don't understand.
Why?
Because I'm too young —
as if my age dictates my wisdom.
But I do understand.
I understand more than either of them.
But they don't know that
because they don't understand.
They leave,
not permanently,
just long enough for the wounds to scab over —
him outside for a smoke by the back of the house
where there are no windows
for weeping little eyes to see him
breaking his promise to quit,
and her to the basement
to drown herself in laundry.
Perhaps she'll also do some ironing,
but that only happens when
things are really bad.
The stack of freshly burnt
shirts on top of the unmade bed
tells me all I need to know.

They come back, though,
they always do —
him to the living room to escape into football, basketball,
or whatever sport is in season,
and her to the kitchen
to fix up a meal for the family.
She usually makes pasta when she's angry.
On nights like these, the sauce comes from a jar.
It's the nasty kind that we hate because
it tastes like she doesn't care anymore.

They meet each other's eyes at the table
and come to a silent assumption:
him right in his mind
and her right in her mind.
He starts to eat a little quicker
and she a little slower.
He's the first one to leave the table,
and she's the last.
She stays there for a while.

Then they move on, just like that.
And everything's okay again,
except it's not.
But who needs to worry about that now?
Things are good now,
and they'll never be bad again.
Because they understand each other now.
They're smiling at each other now.
They're talking to each other now.
They're joking around and laughing with us now.
Is it real?
Is it going to last this time?
Of course, it will.

I don't look so sure.
She notices.

"Oh don't worry, sweetie.
We would never get divorced.
We love you guys too much."

I don't doubt that, Mom.
I know you love us more than anything in the world —
both of you.

I just wish you would love each other
just as much.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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