Caught In The Whirlwind Of Memory Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

Daisey’s father
leaped into a D train
when she was 28
now at 34
still pain
perhaps
she shouldn’t
have thrown him that night
drunk
when he said he’d
never touch a drop
disgusted
Daisey
felt
good
about no longer
sponsoring his illness
and here we were
in Greenpoint
his boyhood
all around us
and she loving me
because
“I knew life.”
Standing before
his childhood building
spending his first
14 years inside
she said,
“Father’s are funny
when does it end? ”
“Never, ” I said solemnly.
Startled by the directness
and force of my response
she kissed my lips
wet
from tears now flowing.
“We are born into
the windowless room of
our parent’s psyche
and we come to accept
the reality of what is real
for them
but which is not Reality
and when we get older
we see the walls of their house
contain their windows but not ours
their windows are our walls
and if we possess courage
and insight
we transform their windows
into ours...”
Daisey asked,
“What are you talking about? ”
“Transformation...but there’s resistance—
guilt
awkwardness
horror
shame
the residue of their lives
halts us
still we must persist until
vast clear glass
and even that
disappears—
the Universe twirling
and we
not separate
just steadfast
whirling.