Father
I wish I could help you understand what it feels like to lose a man, your father.
The clichés now ring clear, a story which began with a ring to my mother.
The fear of loss, you will be no loss, and I never gave a toss about you.
If only I knew that nothing I said was true, and I hope you do, father.
I still have hope that somebody will give me a poke and wake me from this desperate slumber.
I’ll open my eyes and sigh as you do, when I see a message from your number.
But maybe this is not that type of nightmare, and there is some truth to the lie.
It is that which I can’t realise, as I had thought death resided out of sight in the skies.
Its distant echo would be drowned out by your voice, it would have to tug and prise, eventually giving way to your strength, scrambling away from you to another.
But it’s true so please forgive me when I smile and cry like we are together.
All I can say to you now is please don’t go too far, my father.
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2020
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