My dad is an alcoholic.
I say is  even though he has not touched alcohol for a long time, because when you are an alcoholic, you are an alcoholic for life. There is always something in the corner of your mind itching for a drink. I know this, because I can feel that this is the truth for my father. But we never talk about it.

My dad is an alcoholic.
When I was young I used to be woken up from the sounds of music playing loudly downstairs because my dad liked to 'celebrate every evening'. I had to beg my dad to go to bed, if my mom was not there, and I had to pull off his shoes and wrap the blanket around him when he was finally in it. When I was young, my dad drove me everywhere whilst intoxicated. When I was young, my father had an accident because he was drunk driving. I saw my mother's social life slowly deteriorate because of his drinking problem. He used to hit me quite a lot when I did something wrong.
Now that I'm older, that is all over. My brother does not know any better than the way it is now.

But my dad is still an alcoholic.
Since he has stopped drinking, he has lost all sorts of appetite.  He even stopped wanting to celebrate things. He has stopped wanting to celebrate his birthday, new year, easter, even christmas. He hates christmas. I have to fight him to celebrate my birthday.

My dad has stopped being happy since he has stopped drinking.
Or maybe he stopped being happy long before that. I dont know. I just know there is an intrinsic connection between all of the things above but I dont see it because I am not him. And it hurts not to be him but to be on the sidelines and not be able to help. Because he does not let people on the sidelines in. He does not explain and he does not show, he merely is.

My dad is an alcoholic.
And I am here to tell you that that can still hurt long after the drinking has stopped.

I stopped rescuing the past the day I stood up and fought back.
I faced raging men with fists in my face, red swollen eyeballs up against mine, spraying vile spittle from foaming mouths, hands began tearing~thrown against walls, flipped on the floor or down upon my desk, glass vase smashing~barely missed my head.
But, suddenly there comes a moment of sheer Survival, followed by a Rage of Seven Hells, an imbalance of Justice stormed through my Cells, razed up my Body~I changed to a Beast, the violence be got me, a War was unleashed.

My fists flew like lightening, I stabbed with bamboo sticks sharpened like spears, shot with a rifle,  but no..not at deer.
Swung my pistol against the side of his head, bust it wide open, spilling blood shed.
No I didn't **** him~ but broke him instead.

None of these things ever happened just once, many a details I'll leave out~it's done. But what I have shared paints a clue to the Source~fed fuel through a history~display of my Force.

I've escaped with my Life, my Dignity intact, a Self Respect that's stronger than smack.
A Warrior Soul with Courage galor, but no..I don't have to fight anymore.

Instead what's in place is a Calm so Serene that's harbored within once I destroyed the machine.
I stand up for Honor, Justice, Respect.
I abhor selfish liars and ghoulish thugs that prey on Innocence~I've had enough.

I Stand for a Cause to be True to the Heart~
Be good to your neighbor, go back to the Start.
Fix what is broken, the Lost must be Found~
the Cracked Foundations torn to the ground.

Build it back better~the Way it should have been from the beginning.

Use the Strength from a messed up past and Live out loud, Smile and be Proud~
If you made it through~I honor You.

Your body
Is a creation of the galaxies
A coming together of milky ways and solar flares

When I first saw you, I was stunned
At the sheer amount of stardust it would take
To make something that beautiful

Your body
Is a glass case
Struggling to hold rivers in your veins
Herds of wild horses in your chest
The monarch migration in your stomach

Slowly you are cracking
The glass relenting to the spirit it cannot hold
But when it breaks you will not hurt
You will be free

Where are you today?
My mind needs to know
In what space you're existing
Who you may be meeting

Are you thinking of her?
Time to run through
Every single possible
Unpleasant scenario

It doesn't even matter
While you never think of me
My mind can't comprehend
Regardless of reality

Here comes the anger
Unnecessary, destructive
Solving absolutely nothing
And it comes just the same

I try to escape in sleep
But, wait, here you are
And here comes the pain
And you smile just the same.

I never asked for this
I never asked for you to
Waltz into my mind and
Never ever leave.

by Derek Walcott (1930-2017 ) / Nat Lipstadt (1950- )

The time will come
Cruel messenger, bastardized time, come back! unwelcome visitor
when, with elation
bringing only dreaded D-words,  despair, disgust...deflation
you will greet yourself arriving
departing or returning, matters not...there is no greeting
at your own door, in your own mirror
visible in either cracked devices, where lies and truths indifferent
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
welcome smile, wry smile, each an artifice alien smile,

and say, sit here. Eat.
speechless, floored, consuming flesh. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Love the étranger, estranged parts, how
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
Give whine. Give mold. The transplant rejected
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you,
by the stranger, now an it, who cannot recall himself,

all your life, whom you ignored,
all your life, ignored your choices's ever-mounting losses,
for another, who knows you by heart.
the split, the other knows not how to grant forgiveness.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
Take down the historical despair poems, for fresh decomposition,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
notes that never age, born desperate yellowed,
peel your own image from the mirror.
peel the skin, undress the delusionary, expose the interior accurate.
Sit. Feast on your life.

**Sit. Life has feasted on you

by Derek Walcott (1930- )

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.