We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

sacrum - a vespertine haunting

from the articulation of my vertebrae by Orooj-e-Zafar

/

about

home to the skeletal armor around the uterus, our first and last memory of unadulterated peace; my great unbecoming.

lyrics

i was once six years old
and i was once cradled
in the tired arms of a
desolate woman,
who could only cry
and she'd call sometimes,
"Cass," she'd say,
"baby, i've been drinking again
and your father left -
baby, he left and i can't find him."
i'd put her books away then
and try to find the pills
she never wanted to take.
"do you think he's hiding, Cassandra?"

"no," i'd say, and tie her hands;
i was so much more
of my father than i would have liked
to be, "he told me you need these."
"oh no i don't, baby."
"yes, Mama you do."
poppoppop
goes the goddamned weasel,
but now,
just in her
mind-bitten mouth.

it was silent in my room and silent
when she slept
but i was only six and the world
made less sense
to my squinted eyes and
disoriented speech because
the night was her haven -
i was her haven -
she screamed and turned
enough to make the earth's
rotation seem slower
and hours get longer
and the tick drag
tock
drag
tick
fucking tock seemed more
and more interminable
than the first.

it was never silent when
i was six years old.

i was once six years old
and swallowed so many words,
i had to hold every syllable
with my father's Adam's apple -
it was only his apple
and my mother said she tasted it -
he once told me
that a man is defined
by how many words he can put up
in a fight;
he wasn't much of a writer
or a fighter, for that matter,
but to my surprise, he'd
only hold me tighter,
closer
and soon, never again.

"baby," he'd say, "your mama's just been
playin'. you know how it is,"
and i'd nod my chubby head.
"she's just so tired from
loving you so much and loving me so much;
sometimes you have to stay away,
you know?"
"i think so," i'd whisper, wishing i really
didn't. "you'll come back soon right?"
i wrapped my rolled arms around
the warmth of his neck,
gripping the silence his words could never say.
his apple bobbed and i couldn't tell why,
he'd shake a little,
then look at me and sigh,
"never again, Cassandra. not this time."
and i suppose it was only
to ready my cavalry; i wasn't always equipped
for the battles i had to fight,
even when i knew that things
were never going to be
right between them
again.

so when i was six years old, i
hid away books before my mother
swallowed
all the words she needed to talk,
to sing and say, "baby i'm fine," to tell me
that dinner was always going to be ten minutes late,
and that the empty head seat
at the dining table was
only a reminder of all the words she missed,
of an apple only she
had kissed,
a silly
intimacy she missed with
delicacy stringing a bracelet woven
out of all the memories
she drank away.

it burned one day when dinner was late.
it rose in the air
and flew away.

credits

from the articulation of my vertebrae, released October 25, 2014

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Orooj-e-Zafar Islamabad, Pakistan

I love stories and pouring meaning into everything humans do.

learning to be softer since '96.

contact / help

Contact Orooj-e-Zafar

Streaming and
Download help

Report this track or account

Orooj-e-Zafar recommends:

If you like Orooj-e-Zafar, you may also like: