poem: Note for a Man Away From His Children on Father's Day

poem: Note for a Man Away From His Children on Father's Day

A Chapter by Marie Anzalone

I see the look sometimes,

            replacing the phone, mournfully

     when they've been too distracted

               - by lazy parenting, training in discourtesy-

  to interact on any level that's meaningful,

       and my chest constricts at the pain

             knowing that addressing the cause

could only make things worse,

     never... better.

 

At night, sometimes, I hear him pray

       for just a word from the oldest;

           lost in confusion and hormones and indecision;

    talented and lovely and gracious,

         shining like the sun through a dark cloud-

and standing on the brink of her future...

       but next to a woman who calculates

                     the worth of a daughter's life,

                             to her, and only her,

               in projected and actual tallied and secured-

                        dollars and quarters and cents.

 

I see him examine pictures of two others; 

        wondering how irrevocably enmeshed they are

           in the enchantment created:

               myriad tangles of lies and half-truths,

        paraded in front of them like marshalls-

             drill sargeants of the heart;

and then woven skillfully 'round

     dictating and dividing

who is worthy

           of a child's love and who, simply,

                    is not.

 

I feel his isloation on Father's Day,

   bled dry of everything he ever wanted,

         standing by a phone he knows will never ring;

      wishing there were other ways

to connect-

      but 1500 miles is a long way

            and the calculations

        have been expertly and cunningly contrived

to inflict the most lasting damage possible

                on souls whose owners' minor transgressions

     will never deserve this punishment.




© 2012 Marie Anzalone



Author's Note

Marie Anzalone
I wish I could say this weren't a true rendition of the life of someone I actually know... but I think you would know better.

The practice of estranging a child from the other parent after divorce or separation is one of the greaest disservices inflicted upon families, and in my mind, constitutes a form of child abuse that is not yet recognized formally by the State. I am not talking about cases where a parent has truly abandoned his/ her responsibility, or is a danger to the child. I'm talking about cases where the parent with custody feeds his/ her poison into the child, making him/ her hate the other parent. I'm talking about parents who use a child's love as both punishment and a weapon.

My Review

Would you like to review this Chapter?
Login | Register




Featured Review

What a painful write.. and knowing it's all too real.. of one.. of many.. I face this prospect and ache at times.. Life is filled with those extremes... haunting moments that strip away joy for a time.. that pound us down. May the heart find a way to connect even across the miles.. I can attest to that as well...

Posted 6 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

the bad part is it never stops if the child marries and has a wife just like the mother...even when they are adults and 40 yrs old...notice I did not say grown into adults....this is the part that hurts...
"but 1500 miles is a long way

and the calculations

have been expertly and cunningly contrived

to inflict the most lasting damage possible

on souls whose owners' minor transgressions

will never deserve this punishment."



Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Oh god i have been estranged for 25 yrs from my father it it tears at my soul every year

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I think Craig hit it the button, I too felt the same way. It is a sad way of one parent to hurt the other and the kids have no idea of what is going on, yet some them blame themselves of why things are the way they are. In the end, no one really wins.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

this just hits so close it hurts...just beautifully written...it's a pain many won't understand...always wanting to lay blame...just...well...I'm at a loss

Posted 6 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Wow - great poem, the emotions pour out of it - it's so sad yet happens all too often. Your words are very powerful, the message comes across very effectively. Annie :)

Posted 6 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

What a painful write.. and knowing it's all too real.. of one.. of many.. I face this prospect and ache at times.. Life is filled with those extremes... haunting moments that strip away joy for a time.. that pound us down. May the heart find a way to connect even across the miles.. I can attest to that as well...

Posted 6 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

ugh. not your poem. it shines light. brilliantly. with perfectly turned phrase. so perfectly turned that i can feel the ache of the circumstance. and ... so very sadly can say that i have seen this all too often. and that my heart breaks.

Posted 6 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

It is wrong to use a child in any manner. Parents who divorce or hold some sort of crude against one another should never use their children to get back at the other. Children are not pawns after all. They are precious miracles.

Posted 6 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

649 Views
9 Reviews
Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on June 10, 2011
Last Updated on August 23, 2012

A Pilgrimage in Epistles: Poems as Letters and Observations


Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xela, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual poet, essayist, novelist, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, .. more..

Writing