Dad,
I stand before you a man,
inward a young boy,
a spectator of our life.
The man has no expectations,
the boy remembers.
You left me on the shore,
like husks and shells
that you stepped on.
The boy remembers shining
to your blind eyes.
Your acceptance
not felt, nor voiced.
Your arms never stretched
to raise me,
to lift me.
My stories were chatter,
you did not want to hear.
Sound bytes buried
as you became increasingly
irritated by the tone
of my voice.
You were deaf,
your mind self absorbed.
Whores and drugs seduced you,
friends and the bottle captured
your attention.
I was an after thought,
oblivious to my needs
you lacked empathy.
I searched for light in your eyes,
I waited for a kind word,
but encouragement and respect
were not in your vocabulary.
Dad,
I stand before you
as a man,
as a father.
I am not you,
your errors and indifference
shaped me,
your road-map not my own.
The sounds of my children are
the dearest
the dearest
to me,
their pain is mine to carry.
No task too great,
no sacrifice enough.
I encourage,
I nurture,
I lift,
I broke the chain.
Well composed depth of of character
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteGood for you to break the chain and make your own journey ~
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteBreaking that chain and finding your own way, way to be indeed.
ReplyDelete:)As our old friend Brian used to say..smiles
Deletewell written...
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteYes, breaking the chain. Essential for progress.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteThis is both beautifully written and powerful.
ReplyDeleteThank you,Jen.
Deletebreaking that intergenerational chain is so important--this is a powerful piece
ReplyDeleteThank you, Audrey.
DeletePowerful and beautiful. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
Thank you!
DeleteWonderful portrait of breaking a cycle so many fail to break. To take suffering and learn from it rather be embittered by it is a terrific accomplishment.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Linda.
DeleteSorry to hear about your childhood pain and best wishes.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I wrote this for my husband.
DeleteThis is so sad. But what a fantastic ending.
ReplyDeleteLove this part:
"The man has no expectations,
the boy remembers."
Thank you!
Deletepowerful ~
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteBeautiful. I hope that in breaking the chain you created a new link in a new one.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteIt is good to see it is sometimes possible to break that chain!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Mary.
DeleteThis is an important piece that will speak to a lot of people. The chain can be broken!
ReplyDeleteThankfully it can.
DeleteTo create a different roadmap for our parenting than the ones handed to us by our parents....such a difficult journey, but so important!
ReplyDeleteThanks.
Deletethis is the tale of many a life....it's good that in the end life is kind & the sufferer becomes the light for others...a most beautiful write Ayala...nice to see you here @ PU :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sumana.
DeleteThis is a sad story, but we each (even this Dad) do the best we can...not everyone should be a parent, just not cut out of that fabric. Maybe we could be better fishermen? Nice to remember we have a choice, and don't have to follow the map given....
ReplyDeleteSometimes someone will break the chain... in this world it's what really makes a man, to rise and be better than his past.
ReplyDeleteThis gave me chills, especially because it did not repeat.
ReplyDeleteTouching! But there is always two sides to every story, isn't there? When Dad's arms weren't there to raise him, lift him, where were they? And why? And who was the true victim here and why? When you look in the mirror who do you see? Is it you? Or is it a mask for your audience? The crashing waves of the seashore reflect a different story from Dad who's arms reached out in solitude and darkness in pain and in suffering, in hunger and in loneliness. When the phone would ring throughout the night and no answer. Dad was robbed of his precious stones... Like the scattered seashells stare up at the darkness of the nights sky... Dad waited and nobody came, his arms stretched out only to embrace himself... While mom danced in the kitchen with her new clown. Regrets... Mistakes... Bad choices... all paid in a life sentence locked in a dark room... waiting. What is truth? And who is to judge? The enriched? The privileged? Or the poet who's life was kissed by the sun?
ReplyDeleteThis poem is about my husband and his relationship with his father and how he broke the chain.
DeleteHuh? There are 2 sides to every story. This one I find interesting. I can relate
ReplyDelete