I grew up in a home blessed by the serenity prayer,
governed by a disciplinarian.
This prayer blessing served as a reminder of the darkness,
and it’s redemption program.
His darkness and her torture.
There is a devil somewhere, was it him or that liquid in his blood?
The two of them so very different creatures,
she said it was his fault and I always believed her,
and still do.
Although I loved him more than I will probably ever admit to loving her.
I was the love of his life, his angel child, saved from the chaos of a third world country –
delivered to the civilization of his small town.
Yes, the town, it was his, as he was the beloved senator.
He was…like the sociopath in a psychological thriller,
and she is his daughter.
He visited me in a dream,
his words broke my 28-year-old heart, I woke up sobbing.
Broke my heart like never before, not even through the unspeakable circumstances –
we won’t mention, you can imagine.
The serenity prayer, like Vegas lights flashed it’s face.
Their anthem, their reminder.
I inherited your darkness Grandpa
and your hysterics Mother, although neither of you live in my blood.
‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
wisdom to know the difference.’
Socially Engaged Artist 