by Dora Gelerinter
Hope is both an inspiring and a dangerous thing.
Even when you feel like you’re on a sinking ship
But there’s still that small beacon,
Someone can grab on
And pull and pull and pull
Until your heart is birthed from your mouth
And your lips stretch
And your tongue jerks back to avoid the metallic taste of blood
But your heart is too big,
Too full, too generous,
Not too nice like some sick Canada joke,
But just nice enough,
Enough to trust and trust and trust until it is immediately clear
Trust was destroyed like one link in a chain
Blown to smithereens flying everywhere by an electric saw
That whirred as it spit and spun menacingly,
Like the tiger guarding the gates to a satanic palace.
So the tainted blood swishes around,
Filling every crevice, every cell, every corner of your being
Rushing out through your mouth so you feel nauseous for three days
And food doesn’t taste good anymore.
You turned my journey home into an angry power walk.
High-heeled gray suede boots reverberating in the winter air
Every swing of my heart-shaped hoops
An affirmation of my self-worth,
Because this is what happens, even though I know I am special
And beautiful and precious and treasured
But hurt always finds a way to worm through the tightest-bound bricks.
Don’t worry about me.
I’m going to be okay.
My life is young and my dreams are big.
But I’m never going to be able to trust my own judgment
As much as I did for you.
But you, for the rest of your life
You are going to have to live with someone
Who doesn’t feel bad for making people cry
But feels bad for not feeling bad.
I would say, “Who raised you?”
But I quite like your mother.
She deserves to hear the whole truth all the time,
Not the crescent moon of truth I got,
Bookended by the night sky of unmotivated apologies and noncommittal “yeah”s,
A coward shrinking in the light.
I hope your Grey’s Anatomy girl enjoyed the feeling of your lips on hers
That I never felt.
I hope you didn’t lick your lips before kissing her.
The first time you kissed my cheek
it was like a lick from a dog.
I should’ve wiped my cheek.
I hope she never has to ride the rollercoaster of emotions
That you didn’t even pass the height requirement for
I hope she never has to hear the backhanded compliments:
Face only pretty in comparison to your sister,
Singing only melodic in comparison to her best friend’s.
But maybe she’ll change you,
And we’ll all witness your transformation
Into someone who responds and adjusts and genuinely cares,
And I hope that day will come,
But perhaps it never will.
And perhaps I’m even more afraid
That I will never know if it comes.
Because I am but one lily of the valley flower petal
Adorning the grave of your decency.
