Unveiling Orpheus

Written in stanzas, describes the life of a troubled man, a product of his environment.  I had no idea what was going on when mother placed a large pot on the stove, turned the fire all the way up and watched it reach a boil. We had already had our dinner earlier, and unless she was preparing something ahead of time, I was lost.  The apartment on the 2100 block of Monroe was one of many westside apartments we lived in as mother could pack up at anytime and we would be off to a different address.  Wide eyed I watch mother grab a towel to wrap around the pot handles to carry it to a rear window of our second floor apartment. When she reached the window she lowered the boiling pot on the ledge holding it with one hand while the other one pushed up the large window to open.  Every movement was followed as my two sisters were also glued in on the action.  Once mother had the window opened lifted the pot and poured that hot water out and it did not make mush sense until we hear a cry like never before.  Mother closed the window, returned the pot to the kitchen and put us all to bed with no questions asked.  It was many years later when all the pieces fell into place; it was our father.