I try to hold my pain
Like Madea holds onto family history
Tucked away like photo albums
Hid beneath old books containing forgotten knowledge
Wrapped in paper in efforts of preserving
I hold this hurt well
But its stench lingers on my face
Like moth balls under ‘Dea’s bed
Creeping up to beat your nose
Like Pawpaw did Lil Jr
Man, he beat….his….tail
But not one tear did he shed
He held them behind frozen eyes
Fixed upon his stoned face
It was like he’d drifted off somewhere and left his still shell for us to look at
Wow, now I can see the family resemblance
And now I understand why those albums are so carefully put away
Healing has never been an option for us
Instead we’ve had to learn that if it didn’t kill you…get over it
Shut your mouth and keep kicking
So don’t look at those still shots from the past
No, don’t turn those pages
Remind me not of the day before nor the day after tragedy hit
Ain’t no room in my heart for more pain
Ain’t no more pages in the books to hide more secrets
Ain’t enough paper left to wrap and preserve these unfallen tears
Ain’t no shoulder in this family to cry on
Ain’t no ear to hear your rescue pleas
Ain’t no need to worry, you didn’t die, right?
Ain’t no need to stress, you can get over it, right?
Why you wanna cry anyway?
Didn’t Madea say shut your mouth?
You better not cry before she give you something to cry for
Boy, you better keep kicking
These instructions were passed down alongside Madea’s dressing recipe
For the kitchen is the only place you’re allowed to cry
‘Blame it on the onions’, she whispers
So onions make their way into every family recipe
They’re the first thing to be prepped
And the last thing to be added into the dish
Like memories they’re to be set aside
Always in sight
Always in reach
But never to be spoken of
Only to be savored over casual conversations at the dinner table with teary-eyed relatives
We all try to hold our pain and hurt
But I smile
Because tomorrow will be my turn to cook dinner