You know the name, Amanda?
It means Beloved.
A coincidence, I think.
Maybe my parents named me,
Because they also loved.
I don’t want to think about it.
But the issue that scares me about–
My Mom and Dad is,
They don’t talk often to each other.
I read an old journal, my Moms,
She called my Dad Beloved.
Now my Dad does what he wants.
And my Mom does her thing too.
He is always hard to buy–
Any kind of present for, anything.
And I don’t understand a marriage
That appears so seperate,
But has lasted thirty years and
Then some, I watch and–
I see little things, my Dad caring for
My Mom when she’s ill.
But he went downstairs and napped.
They stake out places in the house
Some are her places and
Many places are left to him and some —
Are the little spaces I take up.
It’s weird being thirty at home and thinking.
You have connections to these people;
But you don’t see them.
They are not a them, they are–
Two seperate beings who came
Together to be,
A whole, two halves of one being,
I wonder at this because I wonder for me,
Can I live Beloved .
A whole who is part of another.
Or will I be like my parents
Who somehow work and,
Remain to each other Beloved.
Despite their difficulties,
They are still together.
But that happy feeling love hides,
I live in a dream world I see;
There are few good guys.
I loved once it broke and shattered.
Now I lay in my bed at night.
Thinking of someone new.
A distant man who’ll call me,
His own in our life, I’ll be,
His Beloved girl.
Who named me Beloved?
I don’t see why you called me her.
When I could be any —
One without this painful name.
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