secrets my father never told me
(trauma | draft 1)
never talk back to me, he says
stop crying, he says
show more respect, he says
permanent scars mark my body as these words continue to resound in my memory
flashbacks to a time where the word “family” meant nothing
nothing more than how I felt living with three other strangers
I don’t really know my parents
their histories
their backgrounds
their passions
I draw blanks as I think about what they’ve shared with my brother and I
These uncertainties fill my soul with unfinished business
The secrets of their past lives
Make me believe that coming to America gave them new ones
Erasing their histories, their backgrounds, their passions
And exchanging them for high blood pressure, diabetes, abuse and infinite stress
these become points of departure for our common misunderstandings
creating space between our ability to stand in each other’s presence
my father is a stranger
and I still don’t know him
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