Unknown Identity Part One

I was not there the day my father died. Father's shadow deported in the heavens's light, toddler memories do not recall when he ascended, never heard his wafting echo. Missing, fragment pieces of an incomplete jigsaw puzzle, scattered about my blooming existence. Wading in a bathtub the night he passed, to never remember his touch but to know in his fleeting moment, we were both in water, both in motion. Synchronized in time but separated by nature's calculated undertow. Rubber duckies dance As an icy graveyard forms From under below Years before I would know these fixed moments in time existed, a lifetime of riddled questions plaguing my faded childhood. Mother remarried, a pattern of dreams spiraling to my now withered, beaten thirties, never speaking, keeping mum. Never painting detail with the paintbrush to my defining canvas, greedy with the abstract colors. Only she has chosen the color wheel, keeping absent any knowledge that would characterize the blood flowing in my stranger veins. Child bruises slowly heal venomous mother scars both wounds yet to scab