For every parent who has watched addiction overtake a child
the mystery of you
the mystery of you
has gone through me
like a spike and a line
through the gill of a fish
caught in the act
of loving a lie,
nothing now
but my eye
held up to the rim
of the world
searching for news
in shadows i can’t name
where do I go to report
your abduction,
who will watch
with me?
there is no alert for
a child who
steals himself
and through one long night
after another
unstitches tomorrow
This is beautiful. And sad. It stirs the sorrow I have learned to bury. I love you Dad
ReplyDeleteWell I've learned that burying sorrow is not a very good idea--because it doesn't really die there, it only folds in on itself and grows more intense. Might as well acknowledge it--honor it even, give it a place by the fire.
ReplyDeleteI love you too.
Very powerful, Alan. Thank you for these words.
ReplyDelete