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The Tears For My Father
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Loss Long dead, my father.
Long buried in bitterness.
The God, idol of my childhood.
The cast down, graven image,
Shattered by his own hand.
Demigod, despot, deserter, tosspot.
He died again this weekend, in loneliness.
Guilt of course, I should have been there!
To see him once more before he died.
To comfort, where possible the ailing soul.
Flawed, failed and inadequate.
This much I owed him.
If only,
For the priceless lessons I learned from him.
These made me strong,
And that strength has been tested.
How not to be a Father.
How not to pick a friend.
How not to drink.
How not to love.
He made his choice.
We all learn from our errors.
But the wise learn from the errors of others.
I hope I am wise enough to avoid genetic traits.
And carve my own way in the world.
The path my Father took was cold, long and hard.
I look forward to a little warmth in my old age.
Of tears I have non, non left to spare.
They were all cried out long ago.
The tears for my father.
