this is my father
-

This is My Father

The stench from his body came to me in waves.
A constant pushing and pulling, the ebbing of a tide,
Leaving a sickly sweet smell of burnt flesh and a tortured soul.

A soul that is lighter than air.
Floating away in the breeze coming through the window.
A window carrying a view of an even darker reality.

The blood that coursed through his veins are mine.
Born of the same source, the same pain,
And I cry as I touch his face and see the same ill-shaped nose.

His eyes so like mine, round but not too round.
His flat lips would undoubtedly smile my same thin smile,
As his hand would constantly brush away unruly hair falling down his forehead.

This is my father, lying on a gurney.
A father I never knew, but always knew I loved
This is my father, was my father, the man my mother died for more than twenty years ago.

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