Poetry Project: Divorce

Foreword:
Whether it is having to deal with new art on the walls, new food in the fridge, or a new face to wake-up to, divorce causes many problems, solutions, and changes. These changes, for better or worse, impact us all in a myriad of ways. Some are glad to have their parents living separate lives, while some are still looking for the parent that got away. Even with divorce being so common in these modern times, with married couples breaking up daily all across the nation via text message or phone calls, the feelings that are brought from it are all so different. Happy, sad, confused, lost, fresh, bright, or stupefied, divorce can turn things upside down.

Growing up with divorced parents, divorced since I was 4, there have been many bumps along the way. Whether it’s my parents fighting, having to deal with potential step-parents, or juggling time to see both of my parents, being a child of divorce has made me who I am. Divorce has made me a girl used to having to suck-it-up, or just blast some music and stay in my room the entire night. With a new house and family, I try to live my life regularly, but with having moved 3 times in the past 4 years, it has been hard.

Writing about divorce isn’t easy. When writing these poems, emotions that I tried to bury for a long time were unleashed, screwing with my mind. Some people say it’s easier to have your parents get divorced when you are young; you won’t remember the time spent with both parents there, so you won’t miss and long for it. I think it works both ways. I haven’t ever had a time where me, my mom, and dad have spent the night together in the same house, or had a nice dinner with a round-table sharing of what each of us did that day. This is one of the things that haunts me daily.

Through my poems, I hope that other kids of divorce will see that other people share their worry, hate, and confusion about divorce. I am aware that my parents will read this collection, and maybe it will give all parents a bit of insight to what their kid thinks about throughout their whole life because of the divorce.

All kids want is a voice, a hug, a kiss, and a choice.

It.

It kind of just
happened
I don't remember it at all
how could I really?
I was only four
a toddler to life
a baby to my parent's problems

One day he was there
Next day gone
the house a bit emptier than before
ok. i was ok. fine.
I had 2 houses, 2 sets of toys, double the amount of clothes
I thought that was

cool

what mommy didn't want me to have
I could always ask daddy for

great

no dent in my heart
why would there be?
I saw him on the weekends,
I stayed in her ‘suitable’ house,
and their fights just breezed over my head

Life through my glass-clear emerald eyes was
fine. cool. great
It kind of just happened.
and I kind of just ignored it


He says, She says

He came
bearing matzoh ball soup
She smiles
He laughs
eager to come in
"I know you are sick, so here is the cure. My famous soup."

i look up at him
and He looks down
His eyes pop out of his head a bit

“This must be your daughter.”

yes,
She says
and brings her hand to my back
and pats it once
twice
three times before i stutter a hello
satisfied, Her hand goes away to close the door and motions for Him to
“come in, come in, it’s so cold out there.”

He walks in with a bounce in his step and places the soup on the counter
“whenever you are sick, I will make this”
He says
that would would be nice,
She says
and then flits her eyes around the room a bit, looking for the good cutlery
well, let's eat!
She says
fantastic, I'm starving
He says


Questions

What I never understood was

Why?

As I got older
I questioned
but answers to my own questions
weren't satisfying anymore

I tried to ignore these questions that popped into my head daily
more and more and more
bursting on my lips
that only got shot down

Why do I have two houses, mommy?
Why do I only get to see daddy on weekends, mommy?
Why don't you like mommy anymore, daddy?
Why do you fight so much, mommy?
Why can’t you just hug and make-up?

"When you're older, sweetie."
The inevitable answer

The only answer I ever did get
was the one I’m still not quite sure
if I really want to know the answer to

Was it my fault?


A Choice

I found about the move-in by accident
I never really got the option
the quick let’s sit down
and question of
is this ok?
how do you feel about it?

Instead I got the
“Oh. She knows. I guess the cat got
out of the bag.”
Yep. it did
and with it, the cat scratched me across the face

how long have they been planning this?
did they ever think to ask me?
just ask.
a mere question would do
they probably wouldn’t give a shit
to what I said
but the fact that I could think
even for just a moment
that I had a choice

well,
that would have been nice
real nice

It’s funny
how we can trick ourselves
and they can trick us
“You are the most important thing to me.
You know that right?”
uh-huh
ok
so the fact that the ‘no-one’
is now a permanent house guest
was ok by me?

new art on the walls
new food in the fridge
a new face to wake up too

why not just up and turn my whole life upside down
shake the last bit of
my
out of it

and sure this food may taste better
and the art may look better
but the face
not always better

it was fine
the way we were
I can deal with
my old food
old art
one face
me and her
where does he fit in the equation?
in my moms heart, pushing me aside
or maybe in her brain
worried about him, thinking about him,

I could be off
by her side
trying to fight for her attention
and not a glance would come my way

how does that work?
she bore me
and yet she loves him
where is my voice?
my kiss hello?
my hug when feeling sick?
no thank-you
I won’t take your pity
I just want a voice
a hug
a kiss
and a choice

***EXTRA CREDIT: ARS POETICA POEM***

Everyone’s Piece of Steak

Chew
chew
chew

can’t

you spit it out

on the plate it looks different
a bit gnarled and chewed
but still edible
definitely edible

the flavor will remain on your tongue,
the precious flavor,
salty, spicy
mean
different for everyone
some automatically rejecting it
others trembling in it’s delicacy

people have a different takes on it
a kaleidoscope of colors
more than one blue, red, yellow
and black if you think that’s a color

the texture is ever-changing
one time soft as a pillow
the next maybe sharp as a nail
or dense as concrete

the effort it takes to make it
may rise or fall
but that comes naturally
with our progress of life

the world changes before us
and we change with it
one day our steak may look juicy
the next dry
as our own hearts are too