Dear Father,

I lie today.

You bought me up,

The best you could,

Shook off the poverty,

Your mother stood.

You gave me your wisdom,

So great and old!

It never burdened,

A youngish soul.

You made me your Frankenstein-

Did everything you said

Your mother denied. 

I lie today,

Caffeine high,

Warming my bed with melting ice. 

I am not simple because

I have read Europe and become it,

I think man can be questioned,

And that love doesn’t strike!

I am hoity-toity.

I want your three cell phones, and two laptops,

The expensive cognac that you never actually stopped;

An elite education on a rich, rich hill where

I eat meat and disco-hop to my fill with

Friends that you say made me perverse,

Their influence was stronger and worse.

I lied all the time,

Did what I wanted

Despite your discontent,

I was devious enough to

Give you my point of view,

And then defiant enough

To believe your concessions.

I have no scruples,

I was a child who couldn’t choose right from wrong,

I  am an adult who chooses wrong from right

Which is your word if I truly love

And respect you

Experienced soul exalted.

Dear Father,

I see today.

I know you’re blameless for my choice to be who I saw,

And understand that I must be Urja.

A breath of life and simplicity.

Parenting is providing,

You even socialized,

Violence is acceptable,

A means for a result.

Love is unconditional agreement,

No matter the cost.

Men are heavenly beings,

Whose gender-specific needs must be met.

And women are whores,

Who lie and manipulate.

I have hurt you by

Lying to you-

Saying I love you and then

Calling you a hypocrite who is

Not doing anything constructive and

Instead complaining and self-pitying

To give license to the need to strike.

I am not hurt to be called

A whore by you-

I know that you only say it

Because I am one and

You love me so much

That you make me aware enough to change it.

I am a slave to worldly attachments,

I know no truth or love,

I am only using you and do not

Actually care about you.

I only speak to you and write about

You and think of you because

It makes me feel less guilty-

After all,

I do not care enough to be indifferent.

You have allowed me so much!

What mercy!

I did what I was allowed-

How foolish and shallow

And uncaring of me.

I was supposed to be independent and

Cut a man’s balls off if need be,

But not to pick up friends

And go out with them

Or do anything that was not simple

And homely and good.

I’m such an atrocity-

I fight with you and shout at you

When you never raise your voice or

Become dramatic and despite all the

Money you give me- I am an ungrateful child,

Who does not appreciate your wonderful provisions.

I even push you to extremes,

Where you want to break tables

Or my bones to shut me up.

I don’t love you at all,

How can that be when I ask you

To let me be me?

If I did then it wouldn’t matter because

My Father, Dear Father,

Sacrifices must be made for love.

I lie today,

I have chosen a path.

Never to attempt to prove to

You my worth,

Or let my insecurities turn me

Awry or mad or difficult,

To believe in love and

Not to remember your words

Like you remember your mother’s

I see that you have had a

Terrible, horrible childhood and

Must be in a lot of pain,

I forgive you without offering myself

That escape.

I am not lying just now.

You are a wonderful, good person

Who is a little hurt.

I have hurt you more in spite of myself.

You have done your best as a father,

And I my worst as a daughter,

The best you knew with

What you were given.

The best I knew with

All that you gave.

You gave me enough to see that

I must not be trapped by what I have and

Instead be responsible and mature,

To not let myself be weak and wounded and complain

About anything, instead move forward and do things

For real reasons.

I have nothing to hold you responsible for,

Just the good I attribute to your example

Because even what seems to hurt

Only hurts until you decide to stop reopening the wound.

18 years is all I know and it is too long to

Tell the same story.

I implore myself to see the beautiful and not the gory.

Khushboo Shah