It Was Me I Could Not Save

Step On A Crack...Or Break Your Mother's Back

Memory.

Here is the weird thing:

For decades I could remember the night my father was beaten.

I could see through the eyes of my sister watching as the young men beat my father with a tire iron. I could see my fathers white tee-shirt soak with blood and I could hear my father scream,

“Honey! Get the FUCK in the house God Fucking Damn It!”

My sister stood and watched and could not move and I spent decades watching my father bleed and the men beat him; I watched through my sisters eyes.

********************************

Decades pass.

I ask my father why my sister did not leave the scene of the crime.

We were in the bar, talking while I drank.

Daddy sat quiet, staring at me.

“What are you talking about?”

I am talking about when you were beaten, the worst time, not the other time. Why didn’t she…

View original post 219 more words

~ by Step On a Crack on May 20, 2015.

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