Sarah Walker


I am a writer.

My Father

My dearest father spews out bitter words to me.His anger has completely engulfed him,So that he is tiny and small within it.He says -She lost all rights when she left her marital home.She talks with a quiet voice,But really she is bad and wrong.She has everything, how contemptible.Surely this meeting is over. One minute he recalls himself as a small boy,Terrified of abandonment,The next, he is spewing out bitter, angry words.He tells a story of music and friendship,Far away in Palestine.I remember his dark silencesDuring my years of growing up.He says -Just a minute, I, too, want to speak about my …Read more

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