The Catalyst

 The Catalyst  

I remember the taste of floor wax

Tiny splinters in my small hands

Kept me from praying that night

I knew then God was useless to me

I knew then He was gone

I remember the sound of my fathers’ voice

He was a musician a singer a composer

He sang to me of a loss

I could not understand

His rough music 

His intonations 

I was a child

I was alone at nine

My sister and me

She was four 

I loved her so much

Our mother moved us far away

A new start

A new life

I felt like a fugitive

As if I had done

something wrong

Something criminal

It was my fault wasn’t it?

I was the catalyst 

FROM: SUGAR

Steve Szewczok 

NEOPOIESIS PRESS 2012