The fatherless

for my dad

Consider the birds, they
hop but cannot walk.

Consider the leaves, they
have veins but do not bleed.

And you, you neither hop nor bleed
but you have feet and blood.

Once you did hop, but you've lost—
the knife in your foot makes you quiver.

And you did bleed when the drill stole your
fingers, but I have known you no different.

Today you walk—long hard strides,
each step surprising me with fury.

Then we forget where we came from,
moving forward and backward together.

Life is short; you will forget, alive
yet even still unknowingly living.

This seems quite simple;
you do not speak.

Your father had no face, could I
lose yours on faded pictures?

Not left destitute, just unloved,
and not left alone, just unseen.

To hold on to the good, and forgive the
wrong—or forever remain the fatherless?

02/03/07; 02/05/07; 02/09/07