i say to god that he
is just another absent father
and he tells me to
eat my vegetables
i want to ask where he was,
my father?
a god that i
still don’t know if i fully
believe in?
but because i am
a good son,
i will set the table,
carefully lay out the silverware
ladle hot soup into clean
bowls and bite the inside
of my cheek until it bleeds
when my father says that
i purposely gave him less meat
and i want to ask him,
is this all i am to you?
another mouth to feed,
somebody to blame for your
mistakes and the alcohol on your
breath as you scream at me?
where have you gone,
father of mine,
this mythical man that
walks among the clouds,
and what should i pray for?
a father that loves me,
that wants to parent me,
when does this begging to be
seen as his son,
as anything,
taper off into anger?
because i am down on
my knees here,
but still there is no answer,
and i don’t expect there to be
-
Author:
Boaz Priestly (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 8th, 2022 20:44
- Category: Letter
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek, James Michael
Offline)
Comments2
dear Poet, permit me to share
my two cents worth
on this topic, as I too
know of those hellfire, sentiment's
your words, were forged from...
(I find
that Love, is such a complex
emotion to articulate and diagnose
so as to disassemble
and find a cure, for..
Unlike, romance love
the love of kin, or more specifically
love
of an absent, parent or carer
has such an immeasurable, impact
on our lives
that, we'll still
be identifying
its tremors of consequence
as our
enforced, inheritance of circumstance
till
our very last blink, of life...!
Absenteeism
is not merely, physical
most times, those by our sides
tend
to have their minds, somewhere else
and treat us, like the distractions
they're better-off, without.
But, what I have found
is
that which we can
tolerate, for one instance
we can
cope with, for a certain time
maybe even a day
or
an entire stage of our lives
like, childhood...
and what we can, cope with
often
we can overcome, eventually
but
when we do find a path
to accept and deal
with our rotten
'slice of luck' in life
we'll be able to utilise
that strength we cultivated
in our, survival fight!
So yes, I too
wish my own father
didn't look at me
with eyes of despising resentment
for the choices he made
in His, life
while I was a but a helpless, child..
but then
in another way, when I see those
eyes
I'm reminded
of what strength, I now
have access to
and a part of me, is genuinely
thankful
for our world, is truly
F'ckd up, beyond imagination
so it was a kindness
that the love
my father had for me, was warped
so early
and I, in-turn
learnt
far - far, too early
the true injustices and strife's
awaiting me, in my life...
and so, now
I can write these words and share
a thread of wisdom
and help another, realise
what strength they've been cultivating
in their own: survival, fight!)
Stay strong, dear Poet
'fight, that good fight
for your own: precious Life!'
I’ve spent a very long time being angry at my father, but never thought to look at it as something close to a kindness. I suppose in a way, he did do me a favor by being absent for much of my life. I expect nothing from him, and that doesn’t disappoint me anymore.
Thank you for your kinds words, and reading my work!
A father should guide you; a god should guide you. Your intelligent enough to make your own decisions. My opinion anyways.
This is yet another passionate insight to your relationship with your father. Throwing god in the mix was a great decision.
Always good to hear from you, my friend! I’ve maintained for a good while that I don’t believe in god because he is just another absent father. I’ve enjoyed a Quaker church, though. This was a cathartic write!
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