The Day I Wasn’t His Son (Poem)

Many times, I’ve seen my father hurt,

But I’ve only seen him cry once.

On the day he felt most alone, he said, “my Mother’s gone”

His shoulders sunk and sat in the center of his chest,

Folded like a napkin only meant for tears.

I’ve never seen a chin fall so low.

It reached down as if it was trying to pull his heart out of hell

I don’t believe he touched it,

It is still there.

The air in his lungs kicked like a drum , I couldn’t catch his beat.

For the first time, we were out of sync.

I watched his head swing like a pendulum, his tears in full sprint .

The traces of them on his shirt looked like lightning had struck him.

And it had.

He cried out “she was such a good mother”,

I could feel the power of loneliness shaking him.

My Tree, was blowing in the wind

I draped my arm around his shoulders,

All I could be was his friend.

The greatest pains make the greatest friends

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