The Shadow Man
By Tori Friedlander

Beyond the good times,
below remembered laughter,
the shadow man waits.
I see him through closed eyes,
and hide among the details of my days.
My footsteps echo
a shadowed tread upon the stairs.
My heart pounds in rhythm.
I cannot hold.
Daylight dissolves, becomes
a gossamer web sliding across my eyes.
Spring breezes,
heavy with alcohol laden memories,
tear me away from my choices,
and draw me back
to flannel pajamas
and dark hallways
and the shadow man
who waits upon the stairs

I wrote the Shadow Man as a way of trying to explain the fear that haunted me as a child. Having been abused, having lived with insanity and alcoholism, I never really felt safe. It was always as if those times could reach out of the past to grab me, no matter where I was or who I was with.

Children Learn
By Tori Friedlander

Children Learn
and rules are taught
even in silence.
Smiles never reach the eyes.
Warmth is a word
seldom applied to parents
or home.
Children learn
even without lessons.
Love doesn't mean caring,
and home doesn't mean safety.
Children learn.
Depend on yourself,
get out when you can,
and pay an unwanted tuition
the rest of their lives.

I have come to understand that much of what I learned in my childhood, I learned from what I saw in my family's home, not from what was said.  I believe that children of alcoholics, children who grow up in dysfunctional families, live with the "elephant in the parlor".  We all know its there, but no one is permitted to speak about it. So, children learn without words, from the silences, and clenched jaws, and the violence. Children learn ... and pay the price forever. That was the legacy of my childhood. I hope that I have the courage not to pass that along to my own children.

A Moment in the Morning
By Tori Friedlander

Morning lethargy,
warm beneath the covers,
muscles frozen in repose,
I stare without sight,
and reclaim myself from oblivion.
I wait
and bits of me well upward,
tumble in bright confusion,
wash across my unresisting mind.
And as I lay
waiting for the surge of will
that will release me,
I wonder,
do I lie beneath the tangle
or is the tangle me?

One of the odd things about me is that when I first wake up, I need a few minutes of just staring, usually out of a window.  I don't do anything, think anything, feel anything.  I just stare. People have asked me, over the years, why and this poem is my response.

Family Outing
By Tori Friedlander

Their world, not mine.
Pretense dressed in soap bubbles.
Trailing gray claw marks
Sliding by the window.
Muted anger, loud in silence,
Overlaying the engine's rumble.
They think me with them.
How not?
But I am small, curled inward,
Far from the slashed and bleeding antics
Of our family at play.
They think me with them,
Hungry for my part.
But I have other worlds in which to play
And I wasn't there at all that day.

One of the things that came out of that time of discovery was the realization that I often escaped from reality. I would disappear inside myself as a defense against the insanity of my life. As I got older, I realized that I continued to use this mechanism and there would be whole chunks of my day that were completely missing. I went so far away that I had no recollection of what happened to me.  Staying Present, Staying in the Now, was a very hard lesson to learn.

Parent to Child
By Tori Friedlander

They stare at you
Through shifting eyes,
Begging silently for release,
Every gesture, restless, impatient,
Utterly bored.

You know it.
And yet, you hold them,
Force-feeding wisdom,
Determinedly doing your job
Till at last you whisper, "go"
And they run from you ...
Oh, how they run from you,
Straight to the wrong arms, the wrong place
And you watch, crying inwardly,
At the dangers they embrace.

I think that this is a real truism when it comes to the parent-child relationship. Parents often try to force their children to understand their version of the truth, not understanding that all children need to learn for themselves.  This was written in response to something a friend said once. Her daughter was doing some very dangerous things and she was frustrated by her inability to reach her.  I never did find out how things worked out for that young girl. I hope that her lessons were much less painful than mine have been.

Read also By Tori,
 An American Parent Surviving in Israel

and Mama's Right Here