Father's Day

violet pansies with silly faces ask me about truth it's Sunday morning and old hurts return to kick me in the guts and i'm already down for the count when your father is dead there's nothing but silence between you and his grave absence has sixty-four scorpion stings, but you keep on walking my children will always remind you that Father's Day is not about men with selfish inclinations, it's about a mother's child, loving you with their always-children hearts-- love that chains melodies of forgiveness to little heels that will never crush you.