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father's day

violet pansies with silly faces
ask me about truth
it's Sunday morning and old hurts
return to kick me in the guts and i'm
already down for the count

when your father is dead there's nothing
but silence between you and his grave
absence is sixty-four scorpion stings,
but you keep
on walking

my children will always remind you that
Father's Day is not about men with selfish
inclinations, it's about a mother's child,
loving you with their always-children hearts--

love that chains melodies of forgiveness
to little heels that will never crush you.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Dedicated to Louis, Judd, Carlos, Spencer, Aaron and Barry. ~A
Editing stage: 


i have not been moved by a poem
as much as i was by this this one, in a
long, long time

such powerful masterfully harnessed

i can not single out any one line, emotion or intent
for particular praise, as it is such a complete work

in admiration,

Nice 2c you again, Ms Pleiades.

I sent the poem to my kids and I'm sure they'll share it with their fathers.

much love and gratitude for your kindness,


author comment

In our lives, the truth of our experiences are never *buried*.

Wounded children grow up to be wounded adults who raise wounded children who wound their children. Until the cycle is broken.


author comment

There is nothing I can say here, this left me with an ache on my heart, I lost my father when I was 10 yrs old...this event and now your words leave me unable to put into words what I feel but know that I DId feel this. xx

"The perfect woman perpetrates literature as she does a small sin: as an experiment, in passing, to see if anybody notices it - and to makes sure that somebody does." - Nietzsche

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