Leave my mother for a life without bassinets
Walk out while attempting to cover your tracks

I have lived my existence without knowing
You may be absent, but your mark is exposing

Irish blood courses through your veins
In mine, the green, white, and orange do the same

The emerald in my eyes does not come from my mother’s side
It appeared from yours, along with my pigmentation – pearly white

Still, I know not the sound of your voice
I have not seen you in person or in print; though it is not my choice

Do I want to picture the man who departed because of my conception?
The man who saw my existence as more than a bump in the road (and the belly)?

Father, you are not worthy of my imagination
But, you are the undesirable inspiration

In disappearing, you left me with an unwanted impression
You are not suitable enough for this poetic expression

You are the salt and I am the sea
And I cannot separated you from me