Like all men common by appearance he was complex without knowing his depths. Yet to me, his first son, was oddly confident of things more personal than, in retrospect, I'd wanted to know -- yet knowing is my nature: His ideation of suicide, at or near the time of my birth -- slightly before or afterwards. The illicit abortion of my sibling; gender unknown, who haunts my life in ways unknowable; plagued. The wife and mother of me who nearly bled to death, resulting the dismissal of an unwanted child; as I was soon too soon after birth to become aware myself; unwanted.
Understand me well, there are deaths by many measures, means and kinds, the unkindness of an abandoning indifferent parent is among the worst.
This I know by confessions and conversations of others who intimately trusted me as their friend; their confidence sacred to me. By which I came to know myself curiously blest in ways previously oblivious; like for kind. To a child, though, then unknowing, presuming myself worthy of all slander, punishment, abandoning and worse: no right to be or live at all. Merely indulged; the antics of a stray pet given temporary shelter, a foster being unaccountable attribution to the keeper.
Indifferent he witnessed savage behavior and of those he did not see remained incredulous. As well mother would ask occasionally, why this, what was that about? Mute in reply, since it was my only defense to watch her closely, the turning from mere beating to murder . .
. . . at times holding the glowing coals by hand for too long needs a block of ice to repair, remember those? Ice Boxes? . . .
How old I've become expecting death at any and all turnings of time or events fatal implicit/explicit between mother and myself. And why? Oh Dear God! Do I persist in rowing the ice pick in my heart, mind and soul? My eyes memory bleeding instead of weeping.
For we the broken: PTSD & Co-Dependent legions of us crippled emotionally intoxicated with greed to be known and loved accepted as we are; the hidden self grown to maturity despised, if not beaten to death; merely road kill. . . .Cut apart buried with lime, in the cesspools of time; no monument required. More or better yet to be enslaved to a would-be god-like 'parent'/pimp who sadistically cuts, kicks, abuses and rents our bodies out for the use of others; perpetually scalded in hell forever longing to die.
Sanguine knowing myself sanguinary: slaughterous of a murderous nature or in a murderous state of mind; bloodthirsty rage against injustice of any kind; especially against children already born. All children are of God; all definitions and at any age.
A father bereft of children now I adopt all life as my family as does God . . . i have faith so for such, i'd be willing to live or die for . . . my dragon of rage, belching and farting fire is so difficult to restrain yet so tightly saddled and bridled . . . it is best that i simply walk away and leave my irritants whole; unconsumed & unscathed.
Be well; let it be in your life, to be so beloved of God and healed
Afterword 120829 15:33 beset with slow downs, no malfunctions found yet, on my alternative desktop, I've been researching 'sanguinary' to affirm my identification with being co-dependent for years now healed & a conviction that PTSD people are similar in origin; if not in whole -- at least partially. And could, in part, explain the behavior of those who 'choose' to slay, injure or maim others acting out in public what they could not elsewhere. Seeking attention to their needs?
120829 11:15 confessions of a father
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved
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