Threats

To my father,

Even if you never

put your hands on my mother,

you threatened to put them on me.

"Get out of my sight

before I strangle you."

Years later,

the words still haunt me.

As the words left your mouth

and hung in the air,

I looked into your eyes.

I was searching for love,

the father I knew,

anything to show me

that your words were lies.

As I ran upstairs,

away from your gaze,

your threat replayed in my head.

Because all I had seen,

was a cold, hard anger

that convinced me

you meant what you said.

I was only thirteen,

but I still understood,

that you weren't yourself that day.

Like most days at that time

you were viciously drunk,

so the real you was gone –

the alcohol stole you away.

The vodka brought violence

in your words and your silence

that cut deeper than you knew.

It left many scars

and instilled fear so deep,

that even in sobriety

we couldn't trust you.

But you couldn't remember

all the pain you inflicted –

the alcohol degraded your mind.

You just couldn't grasp,

why she couldn't move forward,

why she kept us away,

how she could leave our family behind.

Whether you ever made good

on your threats to my mother –

I really don't know the truth.

But if she saw

the darkness I did,

I bet she believed

you would, too.

With love & forgiveness,

Your daughter.