Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

My Father…

What would I say to my father

should he pop up like a ghost from the past?

I want to know where you were when I needed you.

I wait for his answer, to pounce,

to shoot him down in flames.

“It was the war, sweetheart.”

That deserved a slap. My hand itched

but I didn’t move to land it.

“Have you ever heard of writing a letter?

Sending a photo that I could identify myself with?”

“Time,” he told me, “Life, gets in the way…”

With an ocean between us, it must

have been easy to forget the things done

when age hampers the mind.

His voice, absent throughout my life

Still nothing much to say, now he is in front of me

It would have been nice, growing up

to know which part of my face belonged to you.

My mother did say I had your bottom lip

which isn’t much to go on.

What part of my mind, is from your DNA?

I am left to wonder. There is no answer.

Maybe you truly are a ghost

with no trace left behind…

AAAAA

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