[Critique Group 2] Leonard's comments on Joan'ssubission

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

Wow! Beautiful. 

You’ve made a grown man cry. 

To have your father die and disappear.  

To have his memory mingled between monster andtender loving Dad  

is heartbreaking. 

To find him again like a shadow  out of the cornerof your eyes  paints such a longingpicture. 

The piece is extraordinary.  

He must have lost sight as to who he was. 

The pain for him must have been terrible.  

For him to watch the effect it was having on youhad to be unbearable.   

It’s the price of alcoholism. .

 

 

Father Love

-Valerie Moreno

 

When I was five,

father love wassitting on your knee,

learningsongs..."Baby face"

"Let me callyou sweetheart", "The Tree".

 

At seven, therewere 

candy barsbraught home each day after work,

whispers you wereill--bleeding ulcers--surgery.

I sat on the backsteps, crying.

Would my daddydie?

 

You came home,gaunt and frail--

I was terrifiedat the change in you...

no more songs,just drops of criticism

that punctured myskin and heart.

 

I was ten whenthe drinking started...

first, Brandy addedto after-dinner coffee

spilling on thelivingroom floor

amid the droan ofignored TV.

 

Acid words andslaps with curses and belts

convinced you haddied on the inside--

I feared you.

 

The licquerincreased, so did my terror

as you became araging volcanoe.

It was because ofother people, you said.

Because of athankless job, fights with family--

mostly, though,it was me. 

"You'restupid!"

"useless,"you told me. "You'll never

amount toanything!"

 

I didn't cry atyour funeral.

I wondered if Iwas useless--

tears were buriedunder the tons 

of hurt, angerand pain of never pleasing you.

 

Years later, whenlearning Alcoholism is a disease,

I understood themadness and torment it caused.

Tears burned andpoured until my 

pillow and sheetswere soaked through.

 

Much later, thestranger merged with daddy

the one who'dsing and bring home candy.

I still hurt,

still cry onFather's Day,

grieve.

Father lovesilently comes amid

shadowy glimpsesof you walking down our block.

 

It's a tiny gem Ihold in my heart.

I celebrate it'ssparkle in the deep night.

________

Love God. ServeGod. Everything is in that.

-St. Clare of Assisi.

spiritwind at pmpmail.com

 
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