The Great Divide

His car stood alone, desolate and dark I thought of him in there, alone and distraught The dark pressed around us from ever-y side Between our car and his stood an awful divide I opened the door and walked, terrified To my dad, in his car, ‘cross the awful divide To one side of me was a play place and a park Behind me, my step mother, and oh how they’d fought Her and my father, outside in the night They had shouted and swore in a horrible fight The baby, my sister, screamed with all of her might But could not drown the noise of that terrible fight And so he fled in his car The road bore the black marks as a scar I ran outside, she was angry-eyed I asked, “Has he done this before?” And she looked away, like she planned to ignore But then she said, “No.” And she swore We loaded up in the car, in the dark I sat in the back, alone and distraught She called him but he wouldn’t pick up his phone I was seven years old, crying from the unknown She gritted her teeth and let out a groan Where he had gone was unknown Finally, he answered, and gave her a landmark By a playground he sat, in an empty parking lot In his car, all alone, he watched the swing set, eyes wild By the playground near his mothers house where he had gone as a child While we parked and Melissa sent me to him, voice mild, He looked at the playground where he had played as a child To one side of me was a play place and a park Behind me my step mom, and ahead my father, distraught I could see the silhouette of the man inside As I walked toward his car through the awful divide As I walked toward the car with no light as my guide As I walked in the dark through the awful divide