bewitched and beaten

it's been awhile since i first posted on here (then again, i am new to this whole blogging experience). and, my last blog was not terribly positive but i'm trying to work toward a more positive headspace. i wrote a poem a few weeks ago about the loss of my father but have lost my journal.

blogging, to me, seems an odd technological venture - that is, journaling for viewers. I have piles of journals since the age of 6 but i huddled, protectively over them as if they were state's secrets. when, truly, who cared what eddie had said to veronica about me when they were dancing at the 8th grade formal? haha. foolishness.

so, i think i may remember a bit of the poem.




her vicious voice shook the house
the window panes rattled from the chill
we children took to the basement with
blankets and candy for fear of her wrath
i remember asking him for kudos bars--
hoping they'd sustain me if i was ever
locked in.
his kindness was his weakness and his
weakness was also women - any woman.
we children were lost and unprotected
by a father, who like a snake only stood
when charmed.
still, the house held white magic--
and, through a trap door, into the garden,
under a trellis and along peppermint striped steps
we were led to a house of candy--
where we were made into gingerbread
children who made sweaters for Santa Claus
and The Gap.
I wished for the comfort of my father.
but he was in the urn waiting to be bewitched.