For tongue-tied women of a certain age
by Elouise
Oh, Honey!
How polite we’ve been
All these years
Voices tripping lightly
Over rotten eggshells
And around huge cow pies
Plopped in our paths
Unceremoniously
By fawning faces
And genteel souls
Killing us softly with
Promises and thinly veiled
Threats cold and dagger-sharp
These words came springing to mind yesterday afternoon. Here we are in the 21st century, deep into the age of Trump, and I’ve been taught to be polite. To defer to those in authority over me, and keep my mouth shut.
Not that I’ve always been a good white girl. Still, on the scale of niceness I’ve probably been about 9 out of 10 on the side of the angels. Especially when dealing with men intent on keeping me in my place (wherever that is), or promising me heaven on earth.
Strangely, my father comes to mind, right up there with my worst boss ever and other men who tried over the years to shame or sweet-talk me into compliance with their wishes.
Today I’m wondering what I have yet to say to my father. Not to scorn or shame him, but to turn the tables and own the power of my voice. Along with the power of truth and good will. Not just for his sake, but for mine.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 February 2019
Telling the Truth 
Perhaps you have nothing left to say to your father, since you’ve probably said most of it before, everything between “I hate you” and “I love you”.
What do you still have to tell yourself, in your relationship with him? That you can cope without him, that your ways of doing things are beautiful without him and because of him; and that you can love and despise him at the same time. That you have ultimately got over your need – or desire? – for his approval, and that you disapprove of him; and that your own love is deep, cleansing and fills you to the brim, so that you can manage without him…
There is so much we could say, that will have to wait until we get to heaven.
I love your poem.
Fran XXX
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Forgive me, Elouise, if I presume, or speak out of turn. These are aspects of myself that I think of, of course, in relation to my own father.
Sometimes everything we feel comes at once, so that there are no clear threads, only a tangle of all in one, that we have to let go of, if we are to be free. Love, despair, incomprehension, dislike, yearning. And only we can understand our relationship with our loved ones. Or, our family we were given at birth.
Husband is offended by my mother. But whereas he feels he must express that, I have found a way to ignore my mother’s barbs – which takes huge mental effort – which I must do if I am to get through the practical tasks of her everyday. So I am accused of pandering to her because I have no energy to get cross – where would that end? – whereas it is more helpful to me, to see my mother as old, tired, unwell and trying very hard.
Our compromises are never easy, are they? Lots of hugs!
Fran XXX ♥
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💜💕🎶😊🤗🦋
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