He always wanted to be a farmer...

He always wanted to be a farmer
His intention was to grow organic produce for his children
And he called us his flowers
So we had fancies of soil sown carefully in neat rows that would reap bountiful beauty
Promises of joy and growth were like the sunlight on leaves and they warmed our faces Until
We learned that we were not so carefully planted
There was no delicate preparation of gardens
Instead, he threw his seed into battered holes and did not care in which direction the roots would grow
As long as they grew within his boundaries
The repercussions being whips across backs
Hands tightly clasped around throats
And lies of supposed endearment
I have seen it
Felt the pain of confusion
And tended to wounds left as reminders on small bodies that escape was fruitless
Our branches were cut back too many times to allow any other truths
Our subconscious minds trained to misinterpret intruder alerts so that anger was reversed and we had only ourselves to blame
I have heard every one of my family member’s silent cries as hope dropped like rotten cherries from a cherry tree
That was not the promise that was made
But you see
Intentions come in every shape and size
In every shade of good bad and ugly
And sometimes they would mingle to create grey brown and blood red
Though, through manipulated youthful eyes, I struggled to determine the weight of every decision he made
Until through cracks in lies Truth slowly seeped into reality
And no longer did his disgusting promises of intended love outweigh the crushed and swollen face of my mother
Her self will never heal from his good intentions
His reputation is flawless for punishing the broken
Breaking the strong
And reaping the benefits of mental illness
Milking clinical disadvantage for every excuse of misunderstanding
And we are left with the soiled fields to replenish •

Poem from Four Years in Chrysalis

© Aisha Tariqa Abdul Haqq Publishing
Follow @AishaTariqa for more daily poetry •