Poem In Which Secrets Are Revealed
There’s a story my father doesn’t
tell. Why he still calls himself an
alcoholic after two decades of detox.
They say alcoholism is hereditary
and I’m skeptical that DNA tracks our
weaknesses that way. But I believe in
weaknesses handed down. I’ve been
weak, leaned into weakness, and blamed
it on my early twenties. Untethered myself
from the things I cared for. Unraveled
those who had come to depend on
me. When I feel an urge these days,
I run away. On my lowest days, I just
collapse on the floor, the only thing
I understand. I am terrified of asking for
more. I am terrified of feeling broken
—being seen as a broken thing. My
greatest fear is suicide, which
is a way of saying I am terrified of being
left to my own devices. My second greatest
fear is that I will die before I understand
what it means to be happy.
jd hegarty is a poet, an anarchist, and a sunflower living in Saint Paul Minnesota with two loud grey cats. jd’s work can be found in Chronotope, White Stag, Crab Orchard Review, Mortar Magazine, and elsewhere. Their first chapbook, On Passing, was published by Red Bird Chapbooks in 2017. They can be reached at jdhegarty.com.