Feb 2022
I guess the way my hand floats in this light is romantic to my eyes
The way my father seems to want to share his life but never gets to is always on my mind.
This morning he told me that as he was staying with his dying dad, he'd said something at the time my father thought was sickly senile words on a deathbed:
"Son at least I was born to peace and will die in peace, I'm afraid that won't be the case for you"
my father repeats with his hands-sliding lower on the wheel,
He's driving me to school on a Friday and I have to ask myself,what does he feel.
Fear for his kids?
Worry for the land his mother and my mother painted when we were born?
Now as he's hanging clothes outside my room I can see his shadow through the window, I too...
Worry that me and my sister will be kids of war,
That my mother and father won't get to see the world alight unless it's a nuclear fight,
That I won't get life just like many more haven't still I
Watch this hand of mine wander and float through light, caressing the veins day and night, caressing veins keeping me alive - accepting what might
Be mere months until we die, be just another thousand lives lost with no guilt for the world to thrive, just a daily sight.
Dad told me he used to think he could change the world and, learnt as I will too, that the only thing I can change is myself.
He's said this throughout my life like a laitmotif to our existence-
Sometimes I think he would suffer less if he'd just accept sufferance.
I tell him I think I no longer want to change the world, I'd rather watch as it's changing and pray I could teach our poems to the stars and they'll send and teach me theirs.
He congratulates me.
It's so rare that I get to see him so human, this is why I grew up so damaged but I still admire it.
When I see my dad I see a crackle of amber filled by a water droplet falling off a soft sage leaf,
It is the heaviest of suffering sometimes when I listen to him.
He is everything I thought I wished and would never want to be.
There's something I found so wise in him, I hope it isn't just his denial of suffering, something among his stories something in his words I hope it stays with me.
The way my father seems to want to share his life but never gets to is always on my mind.
This morning he told me that as he was staying with his dying dad, he'd said something at the time my father thought was sickly senile words on a deathbed:
"Son at least I was born to peace and will die in peace, I'm afraid that won't be the case for you"
my father repeats with his hands-sliding lower on the wheel,
He's driving me to school on a Friday and I have to ask myself,what does he feel.
Fear for his kids?
Worry for the land his mother and my mother painted when we were born?
Now as he's hanging clothes outside my room I can see his shadow through the window, I too...
Worry that me and my sister will be kids of war,
That my mother and father won't get to see the world alight unless it's a nuclear fight,
That I won't get life just like many more haven't still I
Watch this hand of mine wander and float through light, caressing the veins day and night, caressing veins keeping me alive - accepting what might
Be mere months until we die, be just another thousand lives lost with no guilt for the world to thrive, just a daily sight.
Dad told me he used to think he could change the world and, learnt as I will too, that the only thing I can change is myself.
He's said this throughout my life like a laitmotif to our existence-
Sometimes I think he would suffer less if he'd just accept sufferance.
I tell him I think I no longer want to change the world, I'd rather watch as it's changing and pray I could teach our poems to the stars and they'll send and teach me theirs.
He congratulates me.
It's so rare that I get to see him so human, this is why I grew up so damaged but I still admire it.
When I see my dad I see a crackle of amber filled by a water droplet falling off a soft sage leaf,
It is the heaviest of suffering sometimes when I listen to him.
He is everything I thought I wished and would never want to be.
There's something I found so wise in him, I hope it isn't just his denial of suffering, something among his stories something in his words I hope it stays with me.
