Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Reflections on father's day

the thunder claps loudly in the sky,
vibrating the air,
tremors through my heart. . . .

so I turn towards the bay window,
as rain pelts againt the glass panes.

streaks across the sky,
illuminating the darkness,
and secrets of the night. . . .

caught off guard I look up
reflections in the glass
mine own eyes looking back at me.

streaming down my face,
just rain,
an illusion of what ought to be. . . .

startled by the reminder
repressions wanting to escape
mine own eyes turn away.

that acknowledgement
is also an illusion;
wanting costs too much. . . .

baby cries in the background
drawing me back to reality;
salvation from the rejection.

of my daddy's love.


Jayne said...

So poignant... and hard to write I am sure.

shaun said...

I know about the conflict you are going through. My dad was abusive and sick and died young with me hating his guts. But, I did eventually come to the place( with counseling ) of forgiveness. That freed me to love myself and Him. Not that he deserved it, But I think a child deserves to have a father to love. So every once in a while , I actually miss him.
I'm sorry it's so hard, But is also part of what makes you who you are ( and I like who you are for one)

sandwhichisthere said...

I am sorry that I vented my spleen on your other blog. I tried to erase it but I don't know how. I try to take it easy and ease on down the road but sometimes the bile rises up and I can't shut up. Prejudice, someone being mean, and politics seem to be the catalysts. In England they have a tradition of people going to the park, setting a soap box on the lawn, getting up on the soap box, and spouting off all of their icor. I think that I would like that. My daughters would tell you that I spend a lot of time on a soap box. Politics seems to be doing it the most lately. I remember something someone once said, I think it was Eisenhower, "The people of the world want peace and some day their governments are going to have to step aside and let them have it.".
The problem may be that I came of age in the Sixties. "Long ago in a decade far, far, away.". A time of Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain.

Cap'n Slappy said...

Heh heh,, yes, Sandwich is my daddy. I am blessed, although we all are much more sentimental about each other now that we don't all live in the same house. Dad had 3 teenage girls, alone, and for awhile had a little vein in his forehead that looked like it would blow any second. Your post is beautiful and sad, but inspiring. I get the sense that you and your father aren't close, and this is the case with my 2 oldest sons,no contact or interest whatsoever, other than pride in their accomplishments, as though he were somehow, absently, responsible for them. I hope my boys can grow into beautiful, loving, giving people as you have, despite that rejection.I always tell my little sister that we are the sum of our weirdnesses, and I hope that the father issue becomes a part of them that doesn't cause them pain that they can't grow from. I'm sorry for your hurt, you deserve better.(I hope that doesn't sound stalker-ey or anything). Haven't blogged in awhile either, court went REALLY badly, I'd like to just say kid is a jerk and deserved whatever happens, but having lived with him for 4 years, I know he was responding with aggression to a situation he didn't understand, as he tends to do. He just brought it to a level which we can't save him from, he was really really rude to a judge. But it looks like the court system will put him in a program that might save him from himself, we might have acted in time. We'll see. Hydrangeas are beautiful!!!!

Tera Rose said...

my dad wasn't abusive- in the physcically abusive sort of way-

he just isn't there...

which I guess some could say is emotionally abusive....

I just find it sad.

Evelyn said...

Beautiful poetry......
Is writing as good therapy for you as it is for me? There's something amazing about getting the words onto paper or a computer screen!