PenWomanShip

Sometimes I sit old
with my youth held captive by a too eventful past
as I try to un-remember,
violations, confrontations and separations
caused by your frequent and always,
unwelcome invasions into my girl-child
never to reach adolescent virginity.
Your penetrations stole smiles…damaged dreams
and left visions vanished,
visions of veils & flowers & pure white dresses.
I fight to forget images of my family
of which you too were a part
images of embarrassed eyes enveloped in anguish
and hurt
and fear.
Fear of not knowing
if they were more afraid of what happened to me
or to you.
Eyes that tried to look and see me still, as their little girl
but, never being quite able to do it
and often after only hours never days
never weeks or years
of making myself not remember the pain
not relive the horror
not still feel the shame of your touch
I still sometimes cringe in contempt
not of you, but of myself.
Even now after all the years of
family & friends & therapy & even God
telling me that it wasn't my fault
I still feel flashes of guilt.
Did I hug you too much?
Did I kiss you too much?
Did my calling out to you in the middle of the night
because I was afraid of the dark
mean that you should come inside of me
and tear up everything that I saw beautiful in you
and in myself?
Even now as I sit old
the little girl inside of me
never allowed to welcome womanhood
weeps, in the corner of my thoughts
and I wonder still
Did I love you too much,
Daddy?
Did I love you too much?