In the shadows where familial echoes reside,
A tale unfolds, a
father's pain, a turbulent ride.
His past, a storm, etched in
the folds of time,
Yet, as a child, I carry a burden, not of my
crime.
You, the sage, should have known,
Yet, I drifted into the unknown, in your despair prone.
I
bear no blame for the storms of your past,
Wounds not of my making,
yet I feel the cast.
My mother, emerging humane
from her past,
Carries burdens differently.
Why does
she not pass on her trauma's weight?
While you, my father,
perpetuate a cyclical fate.
My brother, shares
similar words,
Yet spared from your fury, a peculiar world.
For him, you wear a benevolent father's guise,
While my
yearning for presence never complies.
At times,
I ponder if our destinies intertwine,
Both bereft, his mother gone,
a fate malign.
Comparing an absent father to a departed mother,
A thought surfaces.
I feel remorse for
the sorrows you've known,
Yet, perplexed as to why similar seeds
are sown.
Why inflict on me what caused you pain,
A
cycle perpetuated, a loss hard to explain.
Convinced, at times, it affects me less than thought,
Yet, love
patterns reveal battles I've fought.
In the quiet of night,
beneath my cover's shield,
I bite into despair, emotions
fiercely concealed.
As time passes, silence
between us grows,
Deeper awareness, the apathy it shows.
Shouldn't my silence prompt deeper concern,
A plea for
remorse, an apology to discern?
A distance
widens, my resolve takes flight,
No longer enduring the silence, the
endless night.
Uncertain if my stance is right or wrong,
Yet yielding for years, I can no longer prolong.
Is it truly as dire as my heart may say?
I share with friends,
and refuge they lay.
Offering shelter, a glimpse of the storm,
Reminding me, it's not merely the norm.
Afraid of myself, glimpses of you I see,
Denying the DNA that
binds you to me.
Yearning for an embrace, yet anger prevails,
A child's longing against adult's travails.
Goodness in you, sometimes I see,
Defending against the
storm within me.
Yet, memories resurface, the sadness prevails,
A complex dance where compassion derails.
Not a villain, I know you to be,
Yet, in those moments,
you're a mystery to me.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Amelie Inge.
Published on e-Stories.org on 01/16/2024.
More from this category "Childhood" (Poems in english)
Other works from Amelie Inge
Did you like it?
Please have a look at: