My parents used to hit me as a child--
my biggest scar that's left no tangible mark.
Everyday when I put on my shoes I see the scar on my ankle--
two surgeries to fix a bone that would never heal.
Sometimes I wonder if I can't walk because of the scar that I see or the scar that I don't.
When I was eleven I spent three days crawling on the floor with a broken ankle, unaware that there was a problem.
When you're used to getting hit, you have a high threshold for pain.
***
I stand at four feet eleven inches, small.
Usually people don't notice because of my big personality but,
sometimes I minimize my own surface area.
Sometimes I'm afraid to take up space.
Sometimes I show off how well I can contort my body to fit into small hiding places.
Just because I can do that, doesn't mean I ever have to again.
And now that my parents love me and buy me things,
we ignore that dark part of our history
like slavery or stealing land from indigenous people--
conversations that never produce satisfying remedies,
but tragedies that shaped generations of people.
A consciousness you can't slip out of,
a hereditary mentality.
God made the Jews wander in the desert for forty years after leaving Egypt,
so that all those who had been slaves could die out.
And a nation could be formed from free people,
unencumbered by old masters.
Now that my parents love me,
I take my kisses with fists.
I need some bite with my bark,
I need a portal to that dark place.
I won't post these memories on the doorposts of my home.
I won't remind myself when I wake up and when I go to sleep.
And that's why I don't tell my friends to cut their nails.
That's why I come back to you.
Sometimes I think I'm prettiest poring over a first-aid kit.
I'm a master of attending to all of my own wounds:
purplish, pus-filled, bleeding, oozing,
scab, scar, dark, unidentifiable.
If my body is a temple,
then why is it visited by so many infidels?
Where did all of this dirt come from?
***
I'm going to Babylon now,
where I plan on staying until the redemption.
The wi-fi will be unreliable,
but I won't need it to find a connection.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,827 Reviews
Legacy here for a review.
I love the content of this poem. You display the content in such a way where someone cannot deny it.
You use stanza breaks excellently. I also like the way you use imagery to make it come to life. I also love the comparison you use at the end of your body being a temple.
The comparison of the way your parents treat you now is like how history has played out is interesting, but it makes sense for the content of the poem. I like it and it's a different way of explaining it.
Your poem doesn't need to be expanded in my opinion; it has all the details that it needs.
I also like how you state that you aren't going to remind yourself of what has happened. Another thing I like is that you feel the need to become rougher so that what happened to you doesn't happen again.
If you need someone to talk to about this, I am here. Good job; this looks like a final draft to me. Keep writing and stay safe, Legacy.
Hi! I really loved your poem! It was kind of sad that your parents hit you so much. I love how you showed the reader how the character was still remembering the abuse and the abuse was getting to them. It's very realistic and I like how you focused on a global problem. I have almost nothing to say except, some parts are kinda confusing, but that's because the detail is so rich there. If there is any way you could make it clear and keep the amazing detail, that would make the poem so much better, not that it can get much better than it is
. I really liked your poem! I hope my review helps!
This is a very good poem. I can't say I know how you feel but thank you for telling us about it. A way to make it beater if you're willing to tell us what they did to you exactly or just in more detail it would make it easier for us to understand. If you can do that I think you would feel beater. The beast way to get back at your parents for what they did is to tell the world about it.