All That’s Left

My mama bear used to braid my hair

To get to the store, we took the bus

Just so you could cook for us

There is a story you often told

One I thought was past, and old

He punched the wall next to your head

If he made contact, you would be dead

You hit him with a fishing rod

Those days, I saw you as a god

 

My mami exists just like a ghost

To work and back, no friends to host

Now, the fights are loud and clear

Meanwhile, your children hide in fear

Broken dishes, food smashed in your face, bruises on your skin

My sister translates the restraining order, police come in

But nothing changes, he comes back to the house

He demands control, and you get as small as a mouse

I once asked why you stayed when you knew that he was fake

To which you answered, “I stay with him for your sake”

 

My mom is foreign in more than one way

I grow further and further from her every day

I once told you I liked a boy named Jim

You quickly replied, “Don’t sleep with him”

What was that about? Did you already know?

How at night my father sneered, “Oh please,” as I cried no

I tried to talk to you about it one day

But what you thought, who could say

You never addressed it, just went deeper into yourself

At this point, who knows about your mental health

 

My mother lost her only son

But that sort of pain had just begun

His tragic loss helped me see

The type of parents you’d never be

Even though you would deny his absence

Therapy would help me lance this abscess

Truth would finally pour out like pus

But you stayed with your husband instead of us.

 

A woman sends me emails

They lack any real details

For years, we tried to build with scraps

But it only emphasized the lacks

A birthday e-card, maybe a Christmas one too

This is all that I have left of you.