pale faced angel, i smile
innocent in my charm and guile
medium built among the four sons
my brown eyes and tilt of nose
hints at the same side of the river,
spilled by the lust driven man
Dad or old man, as all the children
call him affectionately, without disdain
for his humble work of hands, unpretentious
affections for women; he welcomes young girl
his daughter, me
given away by my mother, simple maid,
too ashamed of her deeds or sins of flesh
the young boys peer at my thin shoulders
almost malnourished, they hold their tongue
in great respect to their mother, forgiving,
brave of heart, still loving her wayward husband
the eldest son offers a candy to break the ice,
i take it with a grateful nod, my small hands
eagerly unwrapping the simple treat, as if
discovering the meaning of home and family
lineage i discover today, arriving with my
beaten up bag and old pair of shoes, my only pair
hunger pains ebb with thoughts of: roof
over my head, and a man called "Dad" to care for me
shyly, i bow my head in deference to my "new" family
as i am told that i now carry the family name
politely, i nod as conversations continue
with or without my murmurs; i try not to stand out
with my coarse clothes and blistered hands,
simple words from years lived in shadowy guilt
later, alone in my small room, i unhook
locket with a picture of my birth mother
though officially, she is "dead"
her reckless passion flows in my veins
i don't belong here.
not today.
ever.
Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - The Other. Imagine that person who is other than you, and think about how you might construct a dramatic monologue in poetry. Hosted by Mark Kerstetter. For this prompt, I thought of writing about meeting "the other side of the family" - she is my unofficial half-aunt, if there is such a term.
Happy to be linking up today.
