When my father was alive,
We had very little to say
To each other, but now
I talk to him all the time.
I'm more grown up and allow
Myself to say things I never
Would have dreamed of before,
Things I thought were forever
Buried in the past. Sometimes
I'm angry, not at what he did
but what he didn't do, crimes
of the heart, the way he kept
His feelings to himself, shutting
Me out. Only recently have I wept
For him, and for me, and found
What there is to love and admire
In him. And now I am bound
To him by the strongest of ties.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, blood is thicker than water. Thanks for sharing this poem with us; and of your experiences with your father when he was alive. May his soul rest in peace. E.K.L.