Resolutions at night made
rush with the first ray of light
how much of my mind is truly mine
how heavy the heritage?
brain chemicals, moldy souls
we’re not all psychologically equal

The landscape of my family is brushed
with polite despair
never abusing each other
just that person in the mirror
who won’t stop staring back
joy, what joy?
a defunct idea

My mother, she is dynamic
she hangs onto Jesus’s neck,
she has been pushing his head hard in the
water for so long, her anger is diluting
So Jesus is cool, Jesus is far
and my brother, he has a brilliant mind
and a heavy heart
he puts out his burning anguish with alcohol
light, where is the light?
hitting or stacking the deck

it’s not that the world is ugly, we’re
just ugly in an imperfect world
we coalesce into despair
we’re theoretically functional
societally correct
my father, he is “excellent work”
people tip toe around him and talk about
him with awe and respect
his under-the-radar sadness gets buried
for life is urgent and reality biting

when we get together,
we talk excitedly of all
things peripheral
we laugh for hours
we circumvent the heavy
yet know that there is nothing we wouldn’t do,
if one us actually asked for help
however we do see
how each of us is struggling on a steep cliff
shuffling reasons to stay alive
that’s how we know we won’t save each other
we are not right
we are far from sound
we’re not idyllic, we’re
a dysfunctional family

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”- Leo Tolstoy

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