Fathers Poem by Eugenia Dubinova

To die like a common man,
to embody the death that my father had predicted for himself,
as all those forefathers before him predicted and embodied themselves.

To live with no acceptance of individuality,
to embody the conventionality that my father accepted
in all his self-erasing safety and fear of disdain,
just as his ancestors accepted for themselves.

To surrender voluntarily to the prescribed trajectory of one's life,
as my father has portrayed all his life,
bombarded by addictions to avoid the pain of this gilded prize.
Like his forebears, that etched this notion into stone,
and they too died in the blaze of the same terror—
a complete oblivion to the soul's need for liberation and self-manifestation.

Who are you killing with this somber restraint?
Perhaps, pointing a gun at the head,
while staring into the mirror.