Catharsis in My Pen

Dear Hubland,

If you are looking for some fun and randy poetry this is not it. Please exit, first door on your left. This is me cleaning out my cry file, hoping to find relief in the posting of these. Its been six months and I still have days when my tears catch me unawares.  So I do what I always do to process my pain, I write. Bet you do too.

- Love and Light

♥ ∞

This is not my father

Mine has round rosy cheeks and a stoutness

Plump with years of too much beef and gin

This one’s skeleton now obvious

Under an oversized suit of skin

This man’s mouth has fallen sideways

His brace straight teeth misaligned

To a flaccid grin now chapped

No mischievousness left lingering

This is not our papa

Who’s kisses and hugs are legendary

Who’d wrap you up in strong arms

And teach you to Eskimo by the age of two

This is not the rancher who rose at four

And scoffed if you were still in bed at eight

The once afternoon nap has now become

An all day affair with intermittent waking

This is not my daddy who would talk your ear clean off

On subjects agricultural, mechanical, and geographical

Who cared not if his youngest girl understood or cared

But he still listens and when I ask if his pain is bad

Rarely now a groan means yes

This is not my dad this is my patient

Every night I sleep at the foot of his bed

Rising every three hours dosing his Dilaudid

In the mornings rub his feet to distract him from the pain

He has recessed deep inside

And is dancing in a field with my mother

Looking for a little gate and the path to lead him home

I pray that soon he finds it

For this is not my father

Mom looks out side

Its so pretty and blue

It should have gone dark

Or something, she says

I growl at the birds and trees

Through the tall glass

Don’t you know!

Can’t you hear the deafening quiet

Can’t you feel the whole world just got colder

Can’t you sense a new pointlessness

Don’t you know there is less love in the world

Mom and I stare at one another

Joined by this new hollowness

I love his hands, his arms, his neck

She touches him again and sobs

They will take him away

And I will never touch him again

I kiss his thin soft hair

One last time I tell myself

I love you Daddy

But I know he is not there

Finally its done

He’s gone

All to quickly

Should I feel relief

Or saddness

I can’t decide

Shall I be benevolent

Or selfish

I know what he would choose

God speed Daddy

I will be strong

I will not wallow

Just set my place

At the great table

I’ll be along

Before too long

If I stop crying, is that disrespect?

Will it mean you are then gone?

In keeping my tears, do I keep you?

When I can think of you without crying,

Will you be demoted to the lesser loved

The ones who passed with a sad nod?

To protect the potency of your memory

Must I daily bathe it in tears?