Poem: Funeral Rights

Okay, so this is a fairly negative poem. I wrote it a long time ago, when I was still very angry with my father. No, he’s not dead. I was dealing with feelings around how he treated our family when I was growing up, and how he treated another family better, and there was some step-family drama centered around it. I had a lot of strong emotions back then. This is one of those poems that I’m not 100% comfortable sharing, but here it goes…

Who invited you to this funeral?
Do you think you have the right to be here?
Tell me, did he love you?
Did he respect you, treat you well, protect you, and make you feel safe?
Did he never hit you, never abuse you in any way?
Then you don’t deserve to be here.
He never beat you, blackened your eyes, or broke your bones.
He never threw things at you.
He never killed your dog when you were a little girl.
He never waved your dog’s body in your face and tell you it’s your fault.
He never threw you into a glass table.
You never watched your mother picking the glass from her skin.
You never saw the things he ruined.
He never burnt down your brothers home.
He never called you horrible names.
You weren’t afraid to sleep at night.
You weren’t afraid to spend the night with friends, out of fear that mommy wouldn’t be there when you got back.
You didn’t really know him.
If you were family, he would have hurt you.
If you didn’t suffer, then you don’t deserve to be here.


One thought on “Poem: Funeral Rights

  1. People die, but hurt and anger live on. So hard to be a survivor even when you outlive the immediate threat and cruelty. You capture the feelings and slam them down so they shout.

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