A roar — A silent gasping from the world around it. Piercing — Like my constant fear in those moments...

A roar
A silent gasping from the world around it
Piercing
Like my constant fear in those moments
Thunderous
The flesh of my father thrown toward the lesser massed substance of my sister
“Bitch,” she said
or its equivalent
He, a deliberate force
Like a trigger
Triggered into motion
The developing moments
Of what may be to come
So many bodies acting to prevent just that
And shuffling
Fast-paced
So many bodies
My descent into the crevices of my being
My fear
And the shuffling
And the fast-paced motion toward manic
He:
Intentional
Vibrant bodies:
Diverting the energy, intentionally
We
We all
Motioning toward safety in this place where my father has spontaneously combusted
We are all aflutter in this place where we aim to be better than this growling man and the fear in our bodies
the immediacy of our motion
the gasping of surprise
the dread in the possibilities
My sister, she was moved to safety
We were all whisked away
me, I did not want to be touched
but allowed myself to be moved into a space more grounded than this growling man •

One of my younger sisters sent me a TikTok video in which a young Black man explained, from his own experience, how random human beings engage in procreative behaviors and birth children while not having previously solved their own lives issues. Namely, previously traumatized human beings without access to mental health care trying their best to behave normally in society and utterly failing at the task — and yet having great intentions all the while. This is the entire story of my father as a parent — and if you have been staying tuned this far — all of my parents (I can imagine many others can also relate).

Speaking with this same sister, we both agreed that our father, in particular, had the most innocent of intentions. Become a patriarch to a close-knitted tribe and village of wives (🙄) children and grandchildren and guide us throughout our lives. The end result was, however, not as efficacious as intended.

Instead, genetic, mental illness overtook his life and warped his behavior. He had been diagnosed and placed on effective medication in my youth but has never truly believed in the existence of mental health or of science in general — much to all of our detriment.

I will discuss this in more detail at a later time. Still, the end result of such cognitive dissonance — both himself and his family being saved by his medication whilst also not believing in science — caused a lot of grief to every person he had ever encountered until now.

Our childhood, between myself and the 16 children he assisted in raising (9 biological), was pure and utter chaos at least 45% of the time. There were many calm moments, but the turbulent moments outweighed and far superseded any arbitrary instances of stillness. There was much physical abuse from my father to my several mothers, from my father to some of my many siblings, and from my father to any person he believed was challenging him.

Nevertheless, underneath this occasional raging façade initiated by untreated bipolar disorder was a gentle, loving, intelligent, studious, ambitious, supportive, encouraging, playful, adventurous, and nurturing father, husband, and friend to the same people he unintentionally hurt. I adopted all of his positive traits into myself, byway of him being the parent I admired most as a child.

Today, he seems to have outgrown most of the negative tendencies of untreated bipolar disorder and has maintained the industrious qualities of the illness. The painful part, likely, for everyone involved, is that wounds heal slowly; and some wounds remain festering until the end of time, never to find abatement. Indeed, the goal he originally had of becoming a patriarch to many descendants has succumbed to a reality of distance, distrust, and despondence.

While some of the children have sought to overlook the past and move forward, many will never be able to fill the gaps between the many instances of injury and the sporadic occurrences of peace and love. They will forever, understandably, hold onto these wounds that have shaped who they have become and have caused them to succumb to their own requirement for mental health care. And the adults throughout all of this? They have thoroughly washed their hands of any discussion of amelioration — again, quite understandably.

My father is today a better man than he has ever been, yet some things cannot be overlooked and forgotten. And his grievous "sins", if you will, will likely leave him in a state of unwanted solitude and loneliness as he enters old age — while this huge family he helped to father and husband moves on without him.

If you have read this far, take this from me and my experience: Good intentions do indeed lay the groundwork for the road to hell. Therefore, if you are aware that you need help to positively fulfill any of the essential roles in your life —

TAKE THE HELP!

As for me, I love my father; I speak to him often and will always be here for him, but, reasonably, this same thing cannot be said of the village. •

Poem from Acres of Shadow
© Aisha Tariqa Abdul Haqq Publishing
Follow @AishaTariqa for more original poetry and merchandise •