For My Father

I cannot fix him, too far set in his old ways. His angry temperament and flaming tongue scorches in the deepest crevice of my heart. I am afraid to cry, my futile tears too fragile, it shatters in his iron grip. Today we sat on the bench, just him and I, shoulder to shoulder, father to son and an emptiness between us. In times like these, I know he is broken inside and like plastic, I sit bowing to the ground for I dare not look in his eyes. The silence is deafening, I cannot fix him with these words I want to say: “Dad, I love you. Dad, I’m here for you. Dad, you are my hero. You are the bitter to my sweet, The alcohol to my wine, The rain to a blooming spring.” I long to see you smile, but in times like these I cannot fix you and I fear you are losing me.