TW: DV

When I was younger I used to try to decipher why my father made me feel like such an outsider, he was his happiest with me as an outlier separated by a barbed wire divider. He'd always say that I'm just a good liar, I say "no, I'm not"  I am my father's least favorite daughter.

It was never a question if his blood flowed through my veins, he knew I was his, but still his disdain for me remained. He struggled to even find the desire to pick out my name. my mother says "during that time he felt a lot of shame and it was easier for him to hand you all the blame" but what baby has the strength to carry a man's shame with their ten tiny fingers and small frame? I wasn't even born yet and I was already losing at his game.

I mourn for the life I could've lived one where I viewed the man who gave me life, as a gift. I mourn for the way I as a child had a perpetually clenched fist. I mourn for the way he forced us to take his teachings like he was a revered pastor, shouting from a pulpit...
I mourn for the little boy he once was and how he couldn't help but tap on things and fidget, and how at nine he didn't know how to tell the teacher in English "I need my lunch ticket."

He couldn't stand how I began to defy and resist, a fire inside me he spent my whole life trying to keep from being lit. He didn't understand how at fourteen I already knew he'd never be a loving enough father for me to want to submit, the way a daughter should want to in a family that's tight knit.

He'd call me stupid and a coward but I realize now it's because he saw the strength and power that cascaded out of me like a gardenia tree blooming with flowers. The dominion he claimed over my life, it wasn't mine- it was "ours"- was immeasurable, reminding me I wasn't free, over and over again for hours.

He treated me like a creature that felt no pain
one that wasn't able to think for herself and didn't have a brain
he viewed me as an enemy that he needed to slay
I used to pray that maybe i'd live long enough to one day make my escape

Fifteen years old with three days worth of clothes shoved into a bag in the middle of a night in August, I fled
From all the horrors of this house and my childhood bed
From all the nights and mornings I was left unfed
From all the times he'd overpower me rather than being my father instead

There was a time when I saw him again
I was having breakfast as vile words were spoken to my mother so "don't talk to her like that" was said
he told me I wasn't brave enough to stand up and before a second thought could pass through my head
I rose to my feet to cross swords with my father, i don't even remember what I was eating, but I think it was toasted bread
I fearlessly looked into the eyes of this man and remembered how many times I had bled
and how even though that blood was scarlet, this time I was seeing bright red
"i'll just call the officials." startled he said
and he trembled as he pulled out his phone, like he had seen someone come back from the dead.

Years have passed and tears have fallen
and floated along in the wind with all the seeds and all the pollen
and planted were those seeds and with my tears were they watered
and I see now that my favorite person will always be
my father's least favorite daughter

I hear both your words and the unspoken thoughts behind them.
I hear the whispers of judgment that fall between the cracks in the floor and are felt from the other end of the telephone.
While I don't need your acceptance, it's still hard to accept that, as your daughter, you still don't see me.
What you focus on is what I lack in your eyes, and all that needs to be "fixed."
I am so much more than my shortcomings, and I deserve love and respect, even as an imperfect being.
I realize that now.
Yet, after all these years, your judgment still stings, and my heart continues to ache with the pain it brings.
So, I love you from a distance, so that I can safeguard my heart, so that I can remain whole.
I refuse to dwell among those who seek to undermine me.
I have won too many wars to fight another battle with myself.

-Rhia Clay

She looks in her eyes,
Seeking the light that never dies,
Even when the shadows rise.

Her face still glows
Like the brightest star is the sky,
Even In the deepest lows,
Gentle as a doe.

Not just a impressionist
Or a perfectionist,
But also a professionist.

Wisdom is wrapped in her tenderness,
Strength disguised as her gentleness.
Full of fire, full of grace,
She walks her path at her own pace.

With contrast in personalities,
we got the similarities.
Cause our heart share the same tides,
And Without any hindrance she guides.

Sometimes a warrior, sometimes a swarm
Yet she always keeps me warm.
Because She is, and always will be,
My super duper mom.

Mẹ,

I am hurt by the way things have ended. How do you struggle with your second language, but know exactly what words jab at my dignity? The lack of “I love you”s as I grow up is justified, yet at the times you desire, you’re suddenly fluent in the language of breaking my heart. You articulate clearly and concisely, every syllable stabbing into my spirit as I swallow the lump in my throat. I still bite my tongue with remorse for growing into what you want to be. I choke down any remarks that would make you think less of me (less of you).

You compare me to the man who broke us, but I refuse to see him in the mirror. I have your left dimple, and my brother’s skin that contrasts yours so vividly like the branches that hold your dear orchids next to the porcelain in the glass closet that’s as fragile as your ego. My eyes come from what I have overcome, and the fire in my heart is God. I wish you saw His glory within me, and not the beast that you married.

I wish you weren’t so embarrassed of yourself. I wish you felt familiarity in a country as foreign as mine. For despite all you have done, I want to show you off. I am sorry for how you raised me. Most of all, I forgive you for all the apologies I never received. May you perceive yourself with grace.

Love,
your daughter

Do you think of me as your baby?
Do you want to take my pain away?
Would you take it on
so it’s not on me?
Because I’m yours
and you’re here to stay?

It always makes me feel so crazy
How much I want you
but can’t stand the thought
How easy it would be and how hard
You only wanted someone like you
Maybe one day I’ll be glad that I am not

It feels so wrong to think about moving on
as if our connection is something impermanent
As if you chose me and regretted it since
I know there’s nothing that you owe me
But you’ve always known the expectation
And I think you resent me because you failed

It’s always made me feel so lonely
Sometimes I think I’m less of a woman
because of you
Learned everything through the lens of my daddy
until he crushed and wasted me, too

I never feel as angry now
I fought for you, not knowing what I was up against
And when you were crying at the counter
I tried to love you
You couldn’t let me in

I follow behind you
Bouncing as you go
So full of joy
I can't help but think
What will you become?

Golden hair flows behind
Tossed by the wind
Will it stay gold?
Or fade with age
Darken before my eyes

Less than knee height
A tripping hazard
Bruised knees
***** feet
Will you always be clumsy?  

Slurred speech
Words unfamiliar
Say what you think
Repeat what you hear
Will you truly speak?

A high pitched whine
Emotions uncontrolled
Chaos inside
But nothing is wrong
Will you have reasons to cry?

You wear a sparkly dress
Butterfly sandals
Marker stains
Claim to be a princess
Will you always love beauty?

Scribbles on paper
And tables and skin
Painting your arms
Driveways full of chalk
Will the world be your canvas?

I want time to stop
Still it flows on
Glimpses of the future
Even as she runs
Will I be there to see it?

My dearest angel,
How you’ve grown
From a bean into a flower
I stand in awe of your bloom.

My dearest angel,
The light that bled the dark
Took away my demons,
The moment I felt your heart.

You are the spark that lit the lantern
For me to walk to guide you through,
And every thing I am I owe to you.

My dearest angel,
You are the pride of my soul,
The reason for living when none other is given,
I see you and find my control.

You are seasons and holidays
You are lemonade and summer parades
Fireworks and museums displays
All of me written within you tattooed on your face
When you smile I see myself,
My dearest angel.

When it just feels like one year
But 17 has gone and come,
From the morning I felt your eyes shoot open
I spent every day cautiously hoping—
I won’t ***** it up, and lose my focus
To give you everything I never,
Well I guess I’ll never—
Know if you could ever
Forgive if I have ever let you down.

So sing a prayer for me,
Let me see you open a gift
Like the one you have given
And know that I’ll be there wishing,
As the candles go out,
Please let me steal one more moment,
To savor the time.

My dearest angel of mine.

Sicilian:
Àncilu miu cchiù caru,
Comu criscìsti
Di na fava in ciuri
Sugnu ammiratu dâ to fiuritura.

Àncilu miu cchiù caru,
La luci ca sanguinava lu scuru
Purtava li me dimoni,
Lu mumentu ca sintìa lu to cori.

Tu sì la scintidda ca addumau la lanterna
Pi mia a caminari pi guidarivi,
E ogni cosa ca sugnu ti lu devu.

Àncilu miu cchiù caru,
Tu si l’orgogliu di l’anima mia,
La raggiuni di vìviri quannu n'àutra nun è data,
Ti vìdu e attruvu lu me cuntrollu.

Siti staggiuni e festi
Tu siti limunata e sfilati estivi
Mostra di fochi d'artificiu e musei
Tuttu di mia scrittu dintra di te tatuatu ntâ to facci
Quannu surridi mi vìdu,
Lu me cchiù caru àngiulu.

Quannu pari sulu n'annu
Ma 17 ha jutu e vinutu,
Di la matina sintìa l'occhi ca s'aprìanu
Passava ogni jornu cu cautela spirannu...
Non lu ruvinu e pirdu la cuncintrazzioni
Pi dariti tuttu chiddu ca mai,
Ebbè, penzu ca non lu fazzu mai...
Sapìri si putissi mai
Scusa si ti haiu mai delusu.

Dunca canta pri mia na prighera,
Lassami vidiri grapiri nu rigalu
Comu a chidda ca hai datu
E sapi ca ci sugnu vulennu,
Comu s'astutanu li cannili,
Ti pregu lassami arrubbari n'autru mumentu,
Pi gustarisi lu tempu.

Lu me cchiù caru àngiulu meu.