My Father

I hear his voice Grown old with my absence; His powerful presence pale And querulous no more. Sad and searching words Now come from his throat Where the crescent scar, once madly red, Lies faded like a wan, winter moon. His frailty frightens me; His rage more easily defended Than this unfamiliar exigency. My armor has no resistance Against warm, melted anger Colored with guilt.

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James Fraser

Date: 12/17/2010 2:40:00 AM

This reminds me of my father Deb, he also had a scar on his throat through cancer which eventually took him. I have also written a poem about him, it's called 'A Man I'll Never Be' It's a track title by a band called Boston. So many of my poems have a music influence in the, whether lyrics or track titles. To my favs this goes, as does you >> James :)