Tears shed over years past
and present.
Single income home,
while Mommy juggled three jobs like a circus act,
Daddy was long gone.
Off with another offspring,
said he was never off his love of me.
But I knew better.
Biological desires, heart pulsing, deeper and deeper as she got wetter.
Thoughts of offspring now off.
Although he deemed it impossible.
I’ll always love you, he says,
always thinking of you, he lies.
Because when Daddy went out and about, says he’ll come home, but never tries,
left with pink and swollen eyes from my cries.
Baby one, now there’s two, wait no three, my fault b I meant four.
No warning, shocked by my reaction, deemed it an unexpected surprise.
Surprise, Surprise.
And again my eyes,
swell up with tears from all his lies.
Now he decides to live with them, and provide
although not economically, a role he surely
deprived
me of.
A father there at all times.
So how can I cherish this unexpected surprise?
When I myself was never a cherished surprise.
Not I.
Times are hard, mother-daughter grind.
But Daddy stays fly,
New Cadillac Escalade,
How’d he get it?
Bad credit, and shotty driving record,
I guess through her, the one who birthed #’s Three and Four,
and further divided up my share of his pie.
I carry his family name,
but in shame, no lie.
Considered changing my surname to that of my mother’s,
after all his family enabled my struggle.
Whisper whisper, gossip, whisper, lies, whisper, propaganda, whisper
Painted my father as a hero,
so his sudden downfall was nowhere on my agenda,
nor his, hubris the culprit.
Raised this man into a dependent variable,
making moves, but yet his dependence was never variable.
Shunned me because I never carried his nature.
But this concept is too complex for the mind of a ten year old.
Distanced myself, put my emotions on a shelf.
Well kept, but never dealt
with the rejection of a father and a family.
Why wasn’t I enough?
Born June 12th 1988, #Two January 28,1989.
Do the math, I’m only seven months older.
I was two months when she was conceived.
Call my mother my rock and
he proceeds to throw rocks,
although the last time I check he sure the hell does not reside in a glass house.
I don’t deny her blame, after all
this n*gga wasn’t her spouse,
punked out, couldn’t wife her up when I came about.
Although his parents did just that for him,
grandmother walked down the aisle,
three months later she laid
in a hospital bed to birth him.
Now I’m an adult, on the cusps of my life and what consumes my mind?
Him.
At an ivy league institution nearly for free,
but I still need him.
Yet when I come a knocking, all I get is unanswered phone calls.
Constant Voicemail, “Yo this is D I’m busy right now, hit me up later.”
Ever ironically when he needs me I come, bearing my all.
So how can it be that he is enough for me,
but I left him searching for more?
I’m left with numbers two, three, and four
conflicted because at times all I can see is traces of what I felt should have been meant for me.
Find it hard to see past his transgressions to cherish these unexpected surprises.
Try to focus on the positive that arises
out of a situation like this,
but it’s hard not to miss the love and affection of a father.
The man who should have been my rock, protector, provider,
the epitome of what men aught to be.
But he’s human I see, just like me.