A Fight with a Five-Year Old | Teen Ink

A Fight with a Five-Year Old

October 18, 2016
By salmonsh BRONZE, Columbus, Ohio
salmonsh BRONZE, Columbus, Ohio
2 articles 0 photos 3 comments

I am shrewdly screaming at myself to just wake up
           It is is an act derived from simplicity, yet why do I remain incapable of doing so?
I am now helplessly and hopelessly weeping, and my hysteria rises as my eyes remain sewn, shut, closed, and all I want is for myself to please just wake up
    How can one plead with oneself when they are aware of their invariable stubbornness?
Was I being soothed through the hum of the machinery, of the engine and the intricate working of wires presented before me?
Was I in a facile state of exhaustion?
And if so, it can not be rendered as an excuse, I repeat

For the heavens above, for yourself, for the greater power, for your mentality
Why couldn’t you have been awake?
Your father was dying in front of you
Could you not take notice of the medical machinery,
the machinery he was dependent on,
That was fit onto him like an incorrect jigsaw?
How about your mother, fondling you, despite facing what would be years of depression and devastation because her husband had been robbed of his life by a gunshot?
How about the manner of where you ended up?
You had just fled your country, you ignorant child, you had abandoned a life, and now you were being thrown into another culture, and you slept?
You slept?
For god sake, how could you choose this time as the pinnacle period to rest?
He’s going to die!
He is breathing  some of his last breathes and you are stupidly sleeping
I distaste you, I am full with a hatred unknown to humankind and
yet you remain unaware of the world

But how can I be my own antagonist?

My eyes open

And while it is my my five year old self talking,
it is not the five year old voice I hear
It is my own
“You are five,
And you are tired,
So you rest,
Because the site in front of you is haunting,
Your mother must have wanted you to sleep,
Because she could not be responsible for having
The image of your dying father engraved into your mind,
He was not dying,
His brain had stopped child,
He had been dead for a long time,
So please, go back to sleep
You have done nothing wrong.”

I am quiet now,
Eyes closed,
I am sleeping
just as I had seen my father doing. 


The author's comments:

A true story based on myself as I fled my country in a helicopter as my father seeked medical attention in another nation for his wounds.


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This article has 2 comments.


on Nov. 13 2016 at 10:45 pm
salmonsh BRONZE, Columbus, Ohio
2 articles 0 photos 3 comments
That means a lot! Thank you! (:

on Nov. 13 2016 at 9:59 pm
Claireyager BRONZE, Omaha, Nebraska
1 article 0 photos 2 comments
This was touching and intricately worded! Thank you for this piece!