• The World My Father

    A poem Teal wrote after performing a symbolic ceremony alone where she wrote her father a letter and burned it as an act of closure during the wintertime.

    The agonized sea 
    of parting ways
    heaves and cracks against the heart
    His smile burns its ways across my grief
    As if teasing
    As if reminding me of what I have lost
    The sound of heartbreak
    Rings heavy like a bell underwater
    The impact of the echo of it could be my undoing
    But here I am
    I have not broken under the blow of it
    But I want to
    The sun is setting
    Both inside and out
    I am capsized by the sound of my own voice
    A plea to the listening sky
    A renunciation
    Instead of a wanting
    I am done wanting
    Done wanting for a life I never had
    Done wanting from a man who would never give it
    And cannot give it
    And will never give it
    I have written him a letter
    I have read it aloud
    My voice is nothing against an internal sea in torment.
    It amounts to a whisper
    But a whisper is still a vow
    After perpetual defeat
    You have to wonder
    If you are powerless because you can’t stop and move on
    You have to ask yourself
    How much of you was happy while it lasted?
    Do you not father me on the destroying sands of this earth because I’m not enough?
    Not enough to value
    Not enough to want
    Not enough to try to understand
    The cool of your indifferent waters cannot calm the fury of not being loved enough 
    Only fire can calm the fury
    Fire that consumes the letter I wrote to you
    The violent orange of ember
    Converts the pain to ash
    The ash to smoke
    The smoke to sky
    Death has marked the hills tonight
    But this time the death of a dream
    My fingertips, disabled by the cold
    Are none the less hooded in the ash
    Veiled by the hollow silence of this act and promise
    To never come after your love again
    Picking through the ash and snow
    For a message left behind by the fire
    The finality of a lesson learned
    Is summed up in the two remaining words I find 
    The only two words not eaten by the flame 
    Barely visible through the powder grey lien of the ash
    And the words are
    The world.