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I have lived – adventures - had a few.
I have loved – had love – one or two.
Today seems to have neither – nothing new,
as my life is but a distant, clouded view
of all that I once lived, all I once knew.
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The universe I know, by light of day, comes to me in shades of blue.
She avoids, it seems, until the night, when everything is a black hue,
pot marked by specks , pin pricks of light, indicating, there is more to do
and see, and understand, then to romanticize the night skies, we view
as members upon this human ship, we guide, as part of the crew.
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My universe is but one, huge, black hole.
My Daughter’s life, her pain, I do not know,
as she beats me up with a hurting word,
hostile emotions, a parent need not have heard
or have felt, as my soul begins to melt
in the raging flames of it’s own pain.
What is it that fates hand has dealt ?,
this old father, eyes, heart, soul drowning in rain
with questions of ?, what is going on, once again ?,
that she must strike out, shouts loudly, screams about
that which really has nothing to do with her action
as she strikes, fists pounding on me, a reaction ?,
to break my heart, crush my soul, this, do you know ?
I feel so much like this miserable, November eight, day
– saturated on the inside, lost, empty, cold and gray.
Melanie, is in the grips of another negative spell.
What’s it about ?, why is she lashing out ?, she will not tell.
The gloom I feel inside, I am unable to hide this afternoon,
for it hangs so heavy, drifting about, filling my every room’
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I have to wonder what lies ahead – down the road ?
If, with wisdom, - with insight – it could only be told,
what grief, what pain, what heartache the future will hold,
for this father, this man, this soul so old,
who, under all this weight – might possibly fold –
that he carries upon his narrow, weak, slouched shoulders,
like the back packs - uncertainties of war – carried by soldiers.

B. J. “A” 2
November 8th 2002
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