“Cotton” by Kailah Hawkins

Illustration by Arts and Literary Journal staff editor Cicely Hassell.

nobody said it could be like this

as my father sings his prayers

where do i fit?

maybe his lenses are broken

i want him to live in reality.

my reality.

my cousins

his nephews

my brother

his sister

myself.

but, myself is not him.

he’s a father,

not the child

who never asked to be here

his silence appeases

he yells

drunken melodies

high beats

but he’s full of stuffing

no man can stop me

not a man who can’t listen

a man with cotton in his ears

i am free

i am my own

i am my truth

but if he tries

pulls the cotton out

breathes out his high

maybe, i’ll consider.

Kailah Hawkins is a freshman at the University of Michigan intending to study Public Health with a minor in French and Francophone studies. She often listens to music, reads, or hangs out with friends in her free time. She also enjoys spending time with her family, especially her younger sister. 

Artist’s Statement: “I wrote this piece when I was stressed about coming out to my family, particularly my Dad's side who are religious people. This was me coming to terms with their ignorance, and what that would mean for me.”