A Collection of Poetry About the Dynamics of Divorce: Mom Said, Dad Said, Child Said


There are many things that can tear a family apart. Divorce is one that takes a family and turns it upside down never to be right side up again. In this collection a seemingly normal family reflects on the life that they had and how that life, over time changed, and how that change eventually left all of the members of the family broken. Told from the perspective of all of the members of the family: mom, dad and child this collection explores how we get to the final moment of a divorce. Every family is different. Every mom, dad and child is different. But the goal is to show that each person has their own story to tell within the tragedy of divorce. Each poem begins with what they said last then going backwards so that the audience learns how we got where we are, and finally ending with the first thing they said. Divorce is not a decision to be made easily. It is an emotional experience that affects a family for the rest of their lives.

***The poem of “child” can be male or female and can be edited as necessary by the performer.

Dynamics of Divorce

  • “I just need to live.”

    That was the last thing I said.


    The day started in my bathroom me looking at myself

    Sitting in front of my vanity.


    Brushing my hair over and over

    Replaying the last twenty years of my life over and over

    Wondering why the person that I was looking at

    Didn’t look like me

    Not this woman’s smile- which I hadn’t seen in longer than sun has seen rain


    Not this woman’s hair- now graying like the mixed darkness of her life


    Not this woman’s hands

    Her arms, legs

    Her lonely simple breath…



    Get up from the vanity

    Take the steps to get downstairs and sit in front of the man

    Who for so many years I had called my husband

    Now I call him a ghost.

    Floating through my presence from day to day

    Sleeping next to me at night I roll over and look at him,

    The stranger that continues to climb into my bed

    He touches me and it is the ice-cold skin of a presence that

    Looks familiar and yet so cold and unfamiliar.

    Who is he?


    Who am I?




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