Some people asked me why I need to leave my mother’s house.
She was a fragile woman.
Alone and old.
I should have taken care of her while I can.

The truth is, sometimes I love her.
But most of the times…
all I remember is how she kicked me in the shin
that left a wound for months.
How she, while I’m sick from tuberculosis,
dragged me outside the house
because I don’t have the appetite to eat.
The neighbors had to beg for me.
The neighbors gave me sympathy that my mother refused to give out of anger.

I was only a child.

The truth is, she is an amazing woman for a few days.
But she is a whole different monster if you overstayed.

Is it bad to hold grudges?
For 25 years, I was the emotional punching bag of a sad woman.
And now people asks me why I need to leave my mother alone.

If I don’t leave,
If by the grace of gods I stayed with her,
everyday will be a constant reliving of memories I have tried so hard to bury.
Everyday,
my hate will grow larger than what I can contain.

Everyday I will wish she was dead.

People don’t like it when I tell them this.
They say something along the lines of they hope my kid won’t do this to me.
Or that I didn’t have any gratitude for my own mother.
For raising me alone.
For sacrificing her happiness.

Is it okay to be thankful but not want to be around that person?
Why do I need to be punished for my mother’s small jabs of abuse?
Isn’t healing my inner child
and trying to get the courage to leave
enough of a punishment?

I am pregnant now.
I will try my best to not be like my mother.
To not be full of rage.
My kids will not have to tiptoe around my emotions.
I will create a home that’s

forgiving,
welcoming,
kind.

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I’m sorry.”

I will shield them from the shadows that haunted me for 30 years.

The abuse ends with me.

The abuse ends with me.

Such a violent world we live in
Hard to know just what to do
For example both my mom and dad
Have slapped and spanked me too
But nowadays some choose a path
That may seem rather odd
To discipline with words instead
Of reaching for a rod

"The rod and reproof give wisdom ..."
What does the Bible mean?
In carrying out that principle
Some have gone to the extreme
The rod of discipline should be
To train towards peace and love
True discipline's tree yields peaceful fruit
The Wisdom from above

The rod of discipline is like
The rod of a caring shepherd
Who wields his rod in a loving way
For the sheep by him are treasured
The best example is God Himself
Before whom we sin each day
Does he beat us with a rod of pain?
No, His Word shows us the way

It's true at times He scourges
Some of those that He holds dear
Even then 'tis done in a loving way
Leaving naught for us to fear
Yes, nowadays some choose a path
That may seem rather odd
To discipline with words instead,
Like the discipline from God






© 2023 Mark Toney

We are
Born and bred
Into a life of dread.
We are oblivious
To concept,
Shaken by
Small upset.

We rely
On a human touch,
To feel at ease,
A pure ecstasy
To us.

A gentle hold,
Small movement
To and fro.
Whispers of gold,
From the depths
Of a human soul.

But we grow
And learn of self
Love,
Yet still yearn
For human touch.

But some
Do not recieve.
They must suffer
Neglect,
Lack of affection,
As one to another
Is hurt by rejection.

How purity
Is seen as weak,
Bleak,
And tossed by authority.

A desire so
Ravenous,
Brushed away
By whom we thought
Established us.

For one cannot live
In this manner of such,
As a soul becomes empty
Without the human touch.

I never noticed before
Just how much I like control.
Structure, routine.
These things keep me grounded.

I was always made to go with the flow;
The rules, never my own.
When I flip the pages and read my thoughts
I notice I never liked being torn away from focus.

I loved to sit and work on my passions,
Never cringing at myself for being interested.
I think I learned to dislike my interests
Because others didn't and that was cringe to them.

I was made to follow but told to be a leader,
I'll never know which is better or why.
I don't understand the logic or matter,
Can't everyone decide what's important?

For my parents it was tradition,
What was taught to them
and likely the people before,
The question is where does blame lie?

I would be ripped away from creativity,
To be forced to finish my plate and more,
Promised desserts I never received,
To instead dissociate and remain unfree.

I think this was so damaging to me.

My mom took me back through her thoughts,
Shared stories of how troublesome I was,
She said I always had issues
with being torn away from my tasks.

Tells me it wasn't serious,
But she and others beat my ***.
I have to wonder how I felt then.
I was only three and hurt so often.

I decided to skip the yelling eventually,
I'd go to the corner for thinking differently.
Until I would turn and say okay to my mom,
Who'd laugh at me for being upset.

It's interesting how she doesn't see it.
I have always had a hard time with transitions,
Child, teenager, adult, it's been hard.
And I am going to learn why.

I try to choose kindness
I try to take deep
breaths
and let my anger wash out

But, my there are wasps in
my brain

there is a buzzing
hot
hot
heat
settled where my neck and head
meet

I swim laps in the pool
I walk the road and back
I hope that maybe I will
make it back
kinder

I walk foot trails with
my son
the leaves casting dappled light on his gold-spun hair
I feel my chest break at the sight
He is so kind but he is mine
will he feel this buzzing

will it lead him to break every day
I try to quiet my voice so
he doesn't learn
to yell

but I never learned quiet.
I am teaching myself. I am learning
He is patient with me
that is not his job

I see the sun on his hair
He jumps on my back in the pool
he giggles and wails
love incarnate

I think I will remember these times most
I will feel nostalgia bathed in dappled gold
when my bones are brittle and old
when I have finally learned
to quiet the buzzing

but will it be too late
will his giggles cease
will his small hands turn into fists
will he become me

I am teaching myself. I am learning.
I hope he is learning too
I hope he is seeing me try, seeing me take deep breaths
seeing me scramble for kindness
kindness!
I thrash against these angry chains and I hope he knows

but
I watched my father thrash his whole life
It is how I knew to try
I still carry his anger in me like
like wasps in my brain

I choose kindness
I take deep breathes
I swim laps and walk trails
I hope that kindness will
chose me back

They said these moments were fleeting.

The nights that seemed endless are already in the rear view. Heavy lids and sandbag limbs we made it through the days on fumes of caffeine and never ending love for you.

Lately, the middle of the night wake up calls have grown less frequent and I don’t mind them as much anymore, even in the haze of my exhaustion, candle burning at all ends, I relish the moments your tiny hands search my face for comfort, tugging at my hair like your favorite blanket as you slip back into the deepest sleep.

Mumbling incoherently until your sweet voice becomes steady breathing and you snuggle into me.

I know that someday I won’t be able to hold you like this anymore, I hope that you’ll still need me, but the reasons won’t be as simple, and my exhaustion will come from worry about a million other things you need and won’t voice.

That is the future, and I will handle it when it comes, but for now, I will absorb every second of this vulnerable nighttime ritual and try not to get frustrated by my lack of sleep and ever changing routine that is on your schedule.

I will capture every second I can on photo and video so that every so often, when I am ready to break, I can go back and reflect on how quickly this sand is passing through the glass, breathe deep and just enjoy this time with you.

A Poem by 1SP

Yours, by the first time I laid eyes on you,
Yours, after all we had been through;
By the time we had first embraced,
I knew that my job was to see it take place...

That big old tree house with two swings beneath
As stars in my skies align each time you breathe;
Just say a prayer and tell me what is a wish of yours,
And I'll never stop until God says I fulfilled my purpose;
Like you're thriving in a true greatness like
Yours, like you walking in the greatest life called
Yours, I'll keep showering you in a lifetime full of fun;
Everything you can possibly need and want,
I will pursue it for you until it's yours.
Yours, all things you dream you can be,
Yours, all things you can mean to me;
For a moment of lifetime to build a memory
Of you being right here with me...

That big old tree house with two swings beneath
As stars in my skies align each time you breathe,
Just say a prayer and tell me what is a wish of yours,
And I'll never stop until God says I fulfilled my purpose;
Like you're thriving in a true greatness like
Yours, like you walking in the greatest life called
Yours, I'll keep showering you in a lifetime full of fun;
Everything you can possibly need and want,
I will pursue it for you until it's yours.

You know I will pursue it until it's yours
Malik, you have a dad you can rely on,
You have a dad to plant your goals on,
Harvest all of yours one after one...

Ⓒ Official 1SP

This poem is featured in the book,'ACT LIKE YOU KNOW II: Extradition x Epigraphs'

https://amzn.to/3QnyDy1

#1sp #official1sp #1sppoems #yours #poemsforkids #fatherandson #parenting #fatherhood #actlikeyouknow #extradition #By #epigraphs

I am an unruly child; I
drink in bed and create
messes and tell lies
all the time.
I'm late, I disobey.
I don't eat over the table
or chew my food
or say I love you enough.
I exclude. I avoid.
And when I say to
behave one way
and act another,
I want you to understand;
I am an unruly child
no one to look to,
trying to guide you.

From her lessons in independence we learnt that everyone leaves,
Abandonment as sure a fact of life
                                                                ­                                            as death.

We learnt that love was transactional,
A currency,
A receipted ***-for-tat tete-a-tete.

At the altar we were shown lies,
In the white dress a million yes’s but the question was never till death.

I could walk through darkness without worry,
I’d never been shown the danger,
Been encouraged to see an enemy in calories but not strangers.

We learnt to lie to avoid bruises,
Wooden spoons used for more than stirring soup,
The salt burning streaks down our faces when the *** boiled over the stove top.

Truths ignored and lies inelegant
We learnt to wield fists with tongues  
Sparring for our lives.
Cautiously awaiting the
whistle pop
truth drop
wished unsaid
upon
impact.