Do not tell them where you live.
That your mother squats on the floor.That she scrubs your clothes with her coarse hands and spits on the ground.
Do not tell them what your father does for a living.
That his front tooth is missing and will never be replaced.
Do not tell them about the mold that lives on your walls or the floors that creak and crawl with termites and how you hear mice at night.
Do not tell them that your sister has two babies, with two different men, who have disappeared from her life.
The babies at least, fill your home with light.
Do not tell them that your parents pawned the little they had;
a gold chain,
a watch,
two earrings,
an old pickup truck to pay for your tuition
-that it was not enough, and they had to borrow from your aunt.Do not tell them how much your father owes the bank, his sister (still, after all these years), his friends, and a loan shark.
Do not tell them that you are now working two jobs to pay off his debts.
Because.
Because there are notices coming to your house and phone calls from strange numbers.
Do not tell them what your second job is, for they will distance themselves from you and talk behind your back.
You do not want that.
Do not tell them how your father despises your mother, how he recoils when she comes near; that he stays because she gives him money.
Do not tell them how your mother cries in private and in public because she no longer cares nor has the energy to conceal her misery.
Do not tell them that your relatives do not invite your family to gatherings because they dislike your mother and think your sister is a slut.
Do not tell them that your father has another wife, another family, that you suspect two sons, around your age. That you found out by accident when you were sixteen. Your mother and sister do not know.
Do not.
Tell them.Do not tell them when you were eight, you stole money from your aunt's purse and spat in it, because she said your mother was a low class whore.
Do not tell them how you lied to your classmates, to your colleagues, to strangers, to friends, to yourself.
To belong, to save face, to feel better, to get through another day.
Do. Not. Tell. Them.
YOU ARE READING
Do Not Tell Them Where You Live
PoetryA poem. Do Not Tell Them Where You Live is about shame, identity, societal pressures, and expectations. Above all, it is I hope, the very start of breaking free.