Father Mine

Father Mine Father mine, Your flesh is my flesh, Your blood is my blood, Why do you keep from me The warmth of your heart? Of my life, you approve not, Of my love, you approve not, And at every opportunity You tell me so. Even in my own house, In front of my children, You belittle and berate me. How can they respect you? How can I? How can they respect me As I allow it And sit silently by? A half-century Has well passed And in your twilight years You show no joy. Not to me, your firstborn. Even on mother's birthday You chose argument As your mode of expression. My failures you harp on, My successes, ignore. In the next half-century What is in store? An encouraging word I crave, "Well done, keep it up." Instead you fault me For one son's addiction And another's choices. I'm their father, How do you think I feel? I'm your son, How do I make my sons feel? For that is my greatest fear, That I shall be a reflection In your mirror. Your flesh is my flesh, Your blood is my blood, And the sun that shines on you Shines on me as well. I choose to go out into the sun And embrace the warm light. Your mirror will remain In your darkened room To reflect only yourself. 12/11/2001 Written December 11th, 2001 © on Dec 11 2001 06:34 AM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl    0 • 1