The Change part 5: Her Black Heart Beats


The time of the black.
She hates him for dying, she is so angry he left.
She is in a state of flux, ripples of sadness.

And dualistically
Joy at his departure.

She is free at last
She can be her own self
But how to?
Her template was damaged,
Flawed, imperfect to start off with.

His hurts and disappointments, misadventures and bad behaviour,
He wore like a traje de luces, a waistcoat of many lights.
It caught the sun in different seasons.
And he was exposed time and again.

And yet she has no choice.
She has to love him
To offer him fealty
Because he is The Father.

The ultimate Authority Male.
Her stumbling block.
Her fear,
the greatest fear, of his disapprobation, his scorn,
of being ignored, rejected and forgotten.

Her hatred
Her disavowal of God in her distress
“I don’t like him, I don’t trust him”
He causes her misery and rage.
And yet she must imperatively
Love him,
honour him
But she doesn’t want to.

It is so hard for her to be objective.
She believes her herstory is correct, and yet that leaves no room,
For the sister’s story
Or the mother’s story
Or even his mother and sister’s story, both dead and gone.
She sees no model for these relationships
How he interacted with them.

She knows how his surly nature
Coloured her expectations of men
How his uncontrollable rages
Mystified and scared her.
How his flare of anger swapped soon after for an apology left her mightily confused.
His depression and silence more unknown and scary still.

His alcohol
Caused her abstinent backlash.

And so she must wear black, all black everything, every day.
For three years.
One thousand and ninety five days.
After his sudden departure.

Why?
Because she hates him, but no one must know this great shame.
Because she loves him, despite it all.
Because he is absent and present at the same time.
Because his actions in life have made her so angry.

Into this negative space
She must atone, grieve, and shame herself in black.
Because she hates him, she must remember.
Because she loves him she must remember.
In black.
She must honour this promise in black.

As a penance.
As a punishment.
As a mask.
As a subterfuge.
As a camouflage of truth.

No one must suspect the despicable feelings she really has.

She hides them in black.
Embraces her inner Goth.
Rejoices in her invisibility, her silence.

And under the black clothes
Her black heart beats
For pity,
for sorrow,
for him.


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