What Made You See Your Father Becoming Part Of Me? Poem by Gert Strydom

I have never being drunk,
is one of those men
that can drink beer, cider
and whiskey
while the legs of others fold
and still hold my own
comprehensibly
without changing my personality.

In the operating theatre I have
to get a second shot
to make me go unconscious
to give the doctors
a chance to do their work.

What made you see
your father becoming part of me,
what made you doubt
my integrity?

Was it in my poetry
that you found similar words appear
as the lines that he wrote?

Was it because I didn’t cry
when our relations came to an end
and was too shocked and stunned

or my believe that life goes on,
and that you are not the only one
in this great big world,

or talking privately in a different room
on my phone on my birthday
when you came to visit me,

or were you just made that way
never really to trust,
always to check up

even if it is to invade
the privacy of some one else?