Father
When I was born, my father put his hand inside my chest and took a hold of my tiny heart. He was so scared that the world would crush it that he decided to guide and protect my heart. Whenever I did something he didn’t approve of, he squeezed my heart a little bit to let me know. Whenever I did something right, he caressed my heart. But then, the more things I did right, the less he caressed my heart. And if I made the same mistakes, he would stick his finger in my heart and press it, twist and turn it. I do it out of love, he said, and I believed him. It hurt but I was happy he touched me. Somehow he saw right through me and knew me just as fully as I knew myself. Or maybe I only saw myself through his eyes. He saw the weaknesses and vices, impurities and evils that lived inside me, and it was as if we shared a secret, and I didn’t have to carry its weight alone any more. Being seen was addictive, so I revealed more impure rot that dwelled in my soul. I reached deep inside, pulled out that gooey mass and brought it to my dad. Here, look at all this rot I am ashamed of. And deep down I hoped that he would kill the shame, take the rot and caress it too, but he didn’t. Instead, he punished me for it. I do it out of love, he said, I do it for your own good. I wanted to love him too, so I put my hand in his chest and looked for his heart. All I felt was a cold bone, round like a sphere. Through its walls I felt the heat and pulsation of the heart inside it. I squeezed it but the bone was hard and I couldn’t do a thing. I was sad that I couldn’t touch his heart, so I retreated and wondered if his heart was rotten.
Lover in a Dream
I kneeled and he kneeled. I took his hand and put it inside my chest. Here, squeeze my heart, love me. No, he said and looked away. But you have to, please touch me, feel my heart, otherwise I won’t know that you really love me. No, he said again. But you have to! Please, I beg you, love me! So I took my heart out of my chest and fondled it like a dying bird in my palms. Here it is, eat it. His eyes glared at me and for a second I felt his disgust and judgment. And then suddenly his face softened, his eyes welled and he smiled bitterly. Come here my love, he said. Come closer. He took my heart in his hands and caressed it. I felt calm, it felt good. Then I saw how my heart resting in his palms started to grow. He took it towards his mouth and I thought he would eat it. He bared his teeth and looked deeply in my eyes. Then he kissed my heart and put it back in my chest. He held onto it but didn’t squeeze it. And my heart fluttered and fluttered and he felt it with his hand inside my chest. So with his spare hand he caressed my hair, kissed my forehead, and traced his kisses toward my eyes and drank my salty tears. You can breathe now. Then he looked deep deep in my eyes and as if he read some hidden unspoken need in me, he took my hand and put it in his chest. And I held his heart and wanted to rip it out and eat it, but I didn’t. Instead I squeezed it a little and when I saw his pained expression and a bittersweet smile I stopped immediately. I felt shame and looked away. But he held my face and looked in my eyes again. Don’t worry, I can take it, I’m not going anywhere. And I was happy and the world was beautiful again.
Writer| Mariam Beshidze ’27 | mbeshidze27@amherst.edu
Editor| Aidan Cahill ‘28| acahill28@amherst.edu