Beyond What He Sees

My father would hurl words at me as if I didn’t matter, He felt I was on a train that led nowhere, “Step off that train and find your path,” he would say. “You better do something about your nonexistence status,” he would continue. Oh, some days I felt worthless, Oh, some days I couldn’t find hope’s embrace, It was as if I should hide in the night, Or get lost somewhere in its shadows. Although I was striving, My father felt I wasn’t climbing, He said I had stayed too long at the base, That I had been too nonchalant while my peers ran ahead of me. Sometimes at night, my father would call me to sit with him on the porch, He would tell me stories about his journeys and struggles, Then I would later become the topic of discussion, He would say that his heart bleeds whenever he thinks about me. “Oh, Father, if only you would be patient with me,” I would think. “Oh, Father, if only you would accept the path I have chosen,” I would think further. My father still hasn’t seen through me, And I have learned to shield myself whenever he throws his arrows. November 24, 2024.