I didn't recognise myself in the photos you sent
I've never seen quite that expression on my own face
it was the same on the face of my bother, same eyes wide
same vacantness, same grim forebearance of pain

I look at the girl who was me holding his hand
with absolutely no understanding of that hurtful desire
which was inside people who should not look so normal
it was my undoing, a part of me is stuck there

Stuck in the never ending loop of their doing
it makes me not want to ... well not want to be here
what was done long ago makes me want to be nothing
and I am really, in the overall scheme of things

Except I'm not, for I am a loved person now
and since that's true there's something worth it here
worth pushing on through the treacle of the dark days
to enjoy once again the sunshine when it comes

Sending those photos was a low thing to do
I was wondering, trying to anticpate your next move
and seeing your writing there on the letter you sent me
I knew I shouldn't have opened it, I was right

I put them in the fire burning up, making smoke
no-one here which is a good thing as I need solitude
time to shed yet more tears over a parent who sends hurt
creating children out of adults and the other way

A father, it should be such a simple thing to be
an easy relationship involving laughter, love, safety
a port of call to be sought out when life seems harsh
not you though, always were quite the individual.

1 comment:

  1. that line "creating children out of adults and the other way" is so succinct and full of meaning.

    i'm glad you wrote more of this - the first version stopped on a dark note, yet now it is full of strength and hope