Men have come and always gone.
A child owned, that remained ungrown.
Men in absence spoke, when need was wanted most.
A father’s presence too soon and brief.
Comfort sought, but lost in fault.
I too soothe my own wounds in crimes committed.
A sin of progeny.
Assuaged by rage, through words I rave.
Directed inward, the herd of sinners.
In women’s arms I seek a heart.
But man I am, named in stone.
Stone I am, a man unkown.
poem by peter j. zaragoza ©2016