Letter to My Father
A free verse poem about forgiveness
I kept the black and white photograph —
the sun was shining,
you in your bathing suit,
sitting on a blanket of summer grass,
holding three year old me —
I’m leaning away from you,
my face filled with distress,
my arms reaching for anyone but you.
the body speaks volumes
On every birthday I remember,
you told the story
of how you saved my life
when I was born.
In those moments, you smiled,
your face beaming
like the brightest of stars,
proud of having made me,
having saved me,
yet, I felt the shadow
of unspoken expectations.
I belonged to you
My childhood was
a jumble of confusion.
You guided our family
through the refugee years,
hard and hungry years.
When I was nearly six,
we flew in a silver plane
to the good life, to the land of plenty.
Your strong will and courage
brought us success,
but in the realm of tender family life,
you could find no peace,
breaking our spirits one by one.
Nothing could fill your empty cup
You tried to force what cannot be forced —
embracing me so tightly,
I felt I would choke.
If I squirmed, you squeezed harder,
if I turned to stone,
you called me worthless.
I feared you would devour me,
your appetite never stilled.
You broke my trust
You could be so brutal
with your words,
with your eyes,
brutal with your hands.
And sometimes you could be
as kind as a doe caring for her fawn.
When I was deathly ill at ten,
you were at my bedside day and night,
nursing me with such singular devotion,
but if I laughed too hard at dinner, or
spoke too excitedly with friends,
more than once,
I felt your cold steel stare
and that long-fingered hand
sting my innocent cheek.
You broke my heart
I wanted to believe in you
as children do,
wanted to trust you, to love you.
I never, ever felt safe
I forged a passive rebellion,
denying you what you wanted most:
my love, my devotion and admiration —
I felt fear, felt rage,
I wanted to flee,
but there was nowhere to run.
I became compliant,
invisible, never asking
or wanting anything from you.
It made no difference,
you took the key, unlocked my door,
you would find me,
I was yours.
It was monster love
On your deathbed,
you looked so weak, so small,
no longer able to speak or move.
The poison had drained from your soul.
I held your life in my hands,
the tables were turned —
yet,I could not say, “I forgive you.”
My heart was frozen
After your passing, I finally felt safe
to find meaning
amidst the legacy of fear
and confusion you left me.
I allowed compassion to enter —
understanding at last, that
you lived with a broken heart too.
Trying to heal it with force
was bound to fail.
I forgave you
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tonight, on this, your birthday,
twenty-five years after your death,
I stand among the dying flowers
thinking of your lost chances
for redemption.
I gaze at the full moon,
her kindly face,
ever-luminous in the dark sky.
She watches silently
with her perceptive smile,
as we humans struggle
to make sense of this life,
with its lessons in love,
in loss and forgiveness.
You came to me one night
from the cobwebs —
humbled and wizened,
sitting on the edge
of the bed, patting my knee,
gently and whispering sweetly,
“take care.”
Those were the most unselfish words
you ever said to me.
