chains made change

Born with no knowledge of what my future holds, I live my life with much happiness. Even with mom subtracted out of my life equation, I still find ways to smile. My farther was my equator, he surrounded me no matter how much I turned. Sometimes his light could illuminate an abyss. He was the addition to my subtraction, while some lived life as a trig problem. I wanted things to be simple. A Muslim man with strict values, and everyone respected him. He drenched me with gifts, as I was crowned his little princess. He would draw me Jesus him self if I asked him to. Read me my first book; still can’t pronounce Phillip. The king of the castle. The Alfa and Omega. The God of this little angel. He might not of been to you, but he was to me. Abdul Jihad Muhammad, I known him as daddy. One of the most notorious men in the world, but I had no clue. You don’t need a magnifying glass to identify happiness. Hated by the federal government, but loved by me. Often I would see him, but every time I loved thou more than before. Every time I anticipated for that kiss on the cheek and that enormous hug from that cuddly man. I use to ponder what was going on. To many people raced in and out of this house. This powder substance seem to be the commotion. I use to hand him his metal toy. Ignorant. Hopefully it was a substitution for me. Stabbing his nail into it like his life depended on it. Never wanting to let it go. Heavy, icy, solid material sizzled in his hands at times. Yet, it weighed me down like dead weight. Who knew that that same exact toy will create dead weight.
As his toy was used against him, and created eleven world pools in his body that sucked up the joy that was once in a child’s life. Creating him now and for an eternity paralyzed. I was curious. Why cant my father’s body function like yours. Like mine. Limited. Limited to only little of what life has in store. Run. Jump. Skip. Hop. No. I didn’t know why my farther couldn’t walk at that time, but something was different. Years past, and still no word from mom. I was five at the time, living with my loving grandmamma. I always wondered why I didn’t live with thy farther. I soon found out.
On a normal visit to thy father’s house, things felt different. The air seemed more pure as I inhaled the heavens wind. All my uncles were there and everyone was getting along. We laughed. My brother and I didn’t argue nor fight and my cousins were smiling so hard it was as if it was surreal; animated if you will. We laughed. I felt as if no one could rain on my extravaganza of total bliss. I didn’t know that that morrow would change thy life forever. As we laughed. The base of the sun began to tap the horizon and a day full of beams were almost complete, I decided to close the long black blinds. The children were on the floor in Indian style. The adults were sitting on the long red couch. We laughed. Then silence…
The door collapsed as the mysterious men in black bombarded my sanctuary. Carrying there guns with red lazars and wearing there vest with much protective gear. as if they were scared. And as our laughs turned to screams and that monster in the closet is no longer in our dreams but in our reality. I stared, and even though my farther was the one who couldn’t walk I felt as if I was paralyzed. Mute. Hanging at the end of loves ropes, and as I fell I land in to a world of depression. Muzzled, when I wanted to shout! Then as my farther looked me in the eyes for the last time, I knew he wanted to cry. Cry a ocean full of salt water that burned the touch of any organism. I did nothing. I did nothing as the house was raped. Stripped from the sin in which it was created in. I did nothing as the police made sure that everyone were held captive. As they stole my shine away. As they stole my Christmas, Kwanza, Hanukah, and Ramadan away. My gift. I didn’t cry though, to ignorant to realize that that was the last time I would see my father. Mayhap I was young purposely so I wouldn’t know the truth. So it wont hurt as much.
A love like lilies now, instead of a rare red rose; its not the same. I believe that this changed me for the better, because, my world was my dad. This made me realize what else the world had in store. Even though sometimes I drowned in my tears, I think that the water washed away a life that was so sugar-coated. With mother and father doth absent, I become more independent. With thy farther around I lived life as a princess, and due to order of succession, it’s time for the princess to become queen. My father’s wrong doing made me realize what to do, what not to do. Practice makes perfect, but observation of one anther can same the mishap. It also helped me for the future when I have children. I learned that when you do have children, it’s some stuff that you can’t do anymore. Some times I understand why my father kept doing what he did. Belike, Some times I don’t understand why he didn’t stop ahead of time.
Sentenced with twelve years. Twelve years with tears. Twelve years without the man who brought joy. Twelve years! Why must I be taunted with the torturous twelve. I use to scream and so that the evil in my soul could explode out and disintegrate. So that the pain that I fell does not exist any more. Dead. Hoping that my joy can live on, and forever. I use to scream to the point were I was horse. Then cried. As I cried those silent tears I kept reminiscing on how things use to be. I should have been thinking about how great things are going to be.