Father’s Day

Fathers should be an inspiration until the day they die

Or so I say

But I say a lot

Mostly

And only

Inside

Where it remains

Unreal

 

And

With this admission

I’ve manifested another

Disappointment

For me

 

Keep it inside is what my

Dad taught

Down deep inside

Where it’ll

Atrophy

Rot

And

Hopefully

Disintegrate

 

There were grains of truth sprinkled amid his vast reserves of useless garbage

 

‘If your uncertainties and fears

Don’t wither and shirk

And die’ he’d say

‘Bear your crosses wear your crosses

And channel your

Flourishing disease

Into work’

He’d say

 

‘Because someone has to

Bring home the bacon’

 

The bacon is important he taught me

The bacon is life he taught me

I found out much later

That it can only

Be traded for an approximation

Of life

 

A little bit of your skin

For a lot of my own

Seems fair

I’ve approximated a life

Fair is nowhere

 

My father never warned me

About how it would feel, though

This stuffing and jamming and ramming

My unpleasant emotions

My ambiguous feelings

Ouroboros style

Back into my piles

 

But, he never gained the understanding of anything

Let alone how his

Own process

Now

My process

Was the virus condemning

His own gestalt

 

This was something

I had to find out

On my own

 

20181125_163744
Reflective Self-Portrait  digital photo manipulation, 2018 copyright BHE

 

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