Fading in the Son (The Haunting of a Phantom Father) I saw him on a street at sunset, I choked back a bitter laugh, There he was, an unforgotten phantom, From a faded photograph. I knew him as well as I knew the wind, It was always there, but never seen, They touched me with their faint caress, But cared not that I was seventeen. I stood before him as the sun lost its luster, He stared at me in the last embers of the day, And even though he saw a stranger’s face, He could not look away. He gazed into eyes that were his own, And was then battered by the truth, For in my face, my stance, my soul, Was the mirror of his youth. I smiled at him, it was returned, It could barely mask his shame, I stood before him, an abandoned child, He did not even know my name. I looked at him, and saw no hero, No knight or demigod, I saw a father, flawed and failed, Who wore a man’s façade. I knew the dreams and hopes I carried, Would forever remain hopes and dreams, The fantasies of my father’s love, Were frayed and ragged at the seams. From my pocket, I pulled a treasure, It was a faded photograph, Of a loving mother, a phantom father, And then I ripped it carefully in half. I gave to him a discolored mirror, I kept the vision of my mother’s face, I no longer needed a tarnished treasure, In my heart, it had no place. I looked to him that final time, Both he and the day were done, And the memory of him in my mind’s eye, Was already fading in the son.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Jun 2013 23:42:43 +0000
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