Walking with my father
through the junkie’s habitat of the park
past the band-stand to the pond
where we stood and watched the birds
I longed to find some words to speak to him
as he stood beside me like a statue
in some stony silent prayer
I racked my brain for something true
some sort of spoken key
to unlock the parts in him he never shows
I wanted to see some proof
that deep inside he loves me too
I needed to touch his scars
to finally believe that all of this is real…
[2005]
Thanks for reading this very old poem.
The Lighthouse 