I search for father
in this pain, recall
limbs wrapped,
liniment-lathered,
how he cried out
relief beyond reach
judged his suffering
as emotional –
a karmic penalty
for a life of tyranny –
compassion lapsed.
Now, I fight with legs
that will not settle,
arms that ache to bone,
moments inconsolable
spiralling into moodiness
seems I misunderstood –
overlooked the possibility
of genetics – pain compounded
by the guilt of impotence
curse my failure
to express sympathy,
offer comfort – the habit
of retracting into defensiveness
enacted till his death –
softness not a component
of the barriers that stood
between us…
A sad truth uncovered the hard way – this poem is a call to rethink our intolerances. I forgave my dad’s alcoholism years ago, but only recently did I realize it was a consequence of depression he could not control, the depression largely due to a world he could not control. I was in high school when he died – no one talked about any of this back then! Especially not to kids …
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Seems the understandings come too late. Suppose this is why we keep going…so much more to learn
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Yup … hanging in to see what comes next!
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Powerful words, V.J. Coming to terms with past connections can be a challenge. Wishing you times of comfort in your own body. 😦
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Thanks, Olga.
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