Slap

Slap


We all have a slap to remember.


For some of us, it is a slap we innocently deliver.


To a parent, a grandpa or grandma, or some other poor caretaker.


A forced guardian full of resentment. They guard our childish insurrection. Their internalized irritation. A responsibility to them poorly depicted.


The retaliation begins. It starts with a slap to the hand.


A bellowing slap to your eardrum. Painful in the moment, but a quick exaltation.


Then we get older, and the slap comes full-circle.


From a mom to a toddler, a father to his child, or from our first lover.


The slap comes when we least expect it.


Sometimes we say something and they don’t agree.


Sometimes it’s immediate. Sometimes they wait. Regardless, they always make us pay.


Their delayed but guaranteed display.


A slap that will replay.


Replay and take from the unsuspecting.


A slap full of frustration. A slap full of pent-up emasculation.


They wait to prey. A blow to the mouth, “That’ll teach you, show me respect," they say.


But it only teaches us to pray. Pray to learn the difference between fear and respect.


Slap, slap, slap.


Pray for the one who will save us, the one who will have something else to give us.


An excellently fantasized savior. Oh, you poor, delusional illustrator.


An ugly narrative, an outlined punishment continues.


We learn to say less. We learn to say less to hurt less.


Oh, what a mess! We remember the precursor to the first slap. A wish it would feel just like that. If we could only feel a little less.


It continues nonetheless.


Slap, slap, slap.


A word of “defiance,” any perceived opposition from a lack of reliance. A simple “Why” catapults another facial violation to express their desensitization. Their invisible monetization.


Slap, slap, slap, this time from a complete stranger. Stranger but wickedly familiar.


A push, a shove, a jab to your heart. They say “learn to take a joke.”


A push, a shove, a jab to a frail existence. Some try to fight back through words, a retort and a failed dissertation.


Slap, slap, slap. Slap seems like their part-time endeavor.


Slap, slap, slap, sometimes ask ourself, “Will this last forever?”


Slap to everything that makes them feel inferior. Whose fault is it, that we see through their exterior.


Slap to restrain.


Slap to sustain.


Sustain the fleeting respect, sustain the will to live.


Slap, slap, slap.


Slap to make you “right” again.


What is right? What is wrong?


You never know. It is hard to tell anymore.


No matter what it comes.


“Stop! Go away! No more of this!”


It doesn’t matter.


They’ll find a way to slap you again.


Slap, slap, slap.


Slap no more. Slap to start again.


Don’t be foolish, boy, girl, sir, mam, everyone too meek to declare themselves something more.


Don’t be foolish, everyone else.


Slap, slap, slap.


From your father, from your mother, from your first to last lover.


From every person so foolish to believe, a slap will bring us to their knees.


A slap from them. Slap from no one.


A slap no longer tears us down. A spirit too broken to squeal aloud.


A slap, a sense of relief. A sense of feel.


A slap brings them nothing. We are no longer their soulful meal.


A slap brings them anger. A slap no longer leads them to their repository.


What a backwards response to a horrific story, a compliment to your self-destructive compulsory.


Slap, slap, slap.


A slap no longer hurts.


A slap no longer makes your scorn.


A slap no longer makes you moan.


A slap with nothing left to take.


A slap took everything, now there’s nothing left to stake.


Slap, slap, slap.


Make of it what you care to remember.


A slap will always bring a new member.