It’s easy for me. I’m just her son.
I can’t truly understand,
How far she has come.
How hard it must be to raise a boy
to raise a man.
To teach him to work hard
and be all that he can.
I look back at her struggle
and feel her pain.
Her children she smuggled
and lived in shame.
Lived in the shadows and
hoped for the best.
They will never write that poem. And they will never write those words They will never write about the father who wasn’t there. The father who didn’t care. who didn’t run his fingers through their hair. They will never have to write those words of pain of the father that didn’t show them how to claim their place in this world. NO! Not these girls. They will never write...
I wrote this poem in 2008 and sent it to myself. I discovered it on May 2nd, 2023. How appropriate given that my girls are grown and about to fly away.
She said:
Daddy I miss you, and when I see you, I’m gonna kiss you.
He said:
In life there are no such things as real friends.
She said:
I don’t know where I’d be without you. I wouldn’t have known where to begin.
She said:
You always make me smile.
On Fatherhood, Manhood & Becoming Better Ancestors.