Were you my father?
Who knows
the bones and skin,
mocked up facsimile,
limp sickly thin.
I was enmeshed in you.
You did not speak,
could not say the words
but in your looks I saw,
your bowed head, I heard you.
It's late now, crying is ended
no space for splurts and outbursts.
I burst out still.
Almost three years since
you disappeared
when a skeletal figure came,
took your eyes and sunk them
miswore your clothes
mocked your round tummy
with empty folds of wool.
Beside the hole
I broke, wanted to jump.
I was grabbed, wrongly steadied
groans shocked quiet
I wanted to fall, follow you
leave this grey place.
In the picture your face
is soft, softer than it was in truth
I see you in the profile of every face
with a grey tone. They see me watch them
know my secret and for a moment
you pass through their eyes
and floods return.
Sonja Broderick
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lament-for-a-father/
