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Eyes Cast Downward- Memoir Excerpt

Originally hand written in July 2015 Late Spring of 2014.  Just Months before liver failure Our eyes are nearly always cast dow...

Monday, January 25, 2016

Come Visit Me Here -S.of C.

Whosoever dared me not to live my life? 
The exit sign is finally up and running. Do you see it? 
Who has been looming in the shadows? Whose muttering can still be heard?
I know one is the echo of the philandering father with wandering hands that showed no love. 
Touch without love. Interpretations were made. I was made mother as a child by a man, a touch with no love, touch with no love. 
Then, a whisper,  “Your life is over."

You believed that a girl has to settle down, to live out her days in servitude because she had a child. You held a banquet of shame in my honor. 
Deep within your opaque abyss you passed the dishes in my direction. 
The feel of it scorched my hands. I still bear the scars, I do not feel the burn any longer. 
I stole the fork from your feast and I do not consume that poison any longer. 
I would rather starve us first. Can you see me clearly now? As a corpse man? Spirit man? 
You are dust and ash, once a living man, my father of the blood. Are you are already carbon daddy? 
I know you cry for what could have been, what you failed to do. I can feel your suffering. 
Tears you held in pride. They came out with violence and rage. Now you cry, I see you coiled up, a shamed snake writhing in regret and I shudder at the thought. 
You were born in 1945. Fleeting life of one’s father. 
I hold no meaning to your contribution of my existence. A love was never there, not even looming. Only shadows cast by my youthful light. I was a blank canvas. 
Soaking in the light of the sun only to reflect it back.

I am a time leaper. 
Look now, at the remedies in this reality. 
Come visit me here. Come as a brother, not a father. 

Other echoes can be heard. Do you hear her still?
The third woman you impregnated, a woman named Michele. 
The young woman who kept her money in her sock? 
The one with long brown hair who danced on the tops of pool tables in the tavern? 
Yes, that is my mother. Slender mother whose whispers can still be heard.
 “You’d better marry a rich man Mary Catherine!” because I had wanted things she seemed to believe were out of my reach, through not based on any limitation I had. Only the one she had set for herself. I do not believe that anymore either. 
A Falsehood has no power over me unless I give it as much.
 I know truth when I hear it. I will make my own money mommy. You were born in 1955. 
I do not bow to that dated happenstance. 

I am a time leaper. 
Look now, at the remedies in this reality.
 Come visit me here, be my sister not my mother. 
That was a sour truth you held onto. Spit it out! It was not meant to be mine, nor yours! 
Unlearning these lies will take time, the subconscious holds on tightly to that haunting misery. 
 I have opened the curtain on that dusty old attic and shrank back in revulsion at the blatant truth at first light. I scraped the jagged edges of collectables, with bleeding fingers and I measured their value, saw the damage. Most was submerged in tar. It had rained down on me for too long. I allowed it to immerse me almost completely. 
I believe I have found the power to be rid of the heavy coat. 
The mind floats in liquid. I wade through the waters and they are becoming clear, never festering. 
I have this device that acts like a filter. It is woven in gold. I see what is of value now. 
Time is an open question and time is the most relevant to the person who values it. 
I am a time leaper. 
Look now, at the remedies in this reality. 
Come visit me here, be a sister, not my mother. Be a brother, not my father. 
 Time is an open question.  One only you can answer.
 Time shifts, appears and vanishes in proportion to where you place it's value. 

Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen


Anything to say on the subject?