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j-wallace-larwoodPoems
A generation ago in the hope of redemption I would look into the mirror, and shave through the steam Reflected in dim disapproval I'd see Half the face of my father, the contempt that is me Looking back in the hope of connection. He's now younger than I am, since he died before time And I no longer feel cowed at the tone in his voice But this morning reach up to the root of the deed Expressed in a context, and now finally succeed To move through past the bones of dejection. I straighten my shoulders and grin to the past **** in my stomach, raise my hands to my face Breathe deeply and uncouple a loud cry to the air A little in sorrow, really not in despair And draw back from the arms of the boatman
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Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:14 AM UTC
Taking The Weight Off
A generation ago in the hope of redemption I would look into the mirror, and shave through the steam Reflected in dim disapproval I'd see Half the face of my father, the contempt that is me Looking back in the hope of connection. He's now younger than I am, since he died before time And I no longer feel cowed at the tone in his voice But this morning reach up to the root of the deed Expressed in a context, and now finally succeed To move through past the bones of dejection. I straighten my shoulders and grin to the past **** in my stomach, raise my hands to my face Breathe deeply and uncouple a loud cry to the air A little in sorrow, really not in despair And draw back from the arms of the boatman
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j-wallace-larwood
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:14 AM UTC
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