MY FATHER

My father is a land mass.

He is the North Star,

An immovable object.

​

His hands envelop mine; boulders,

Swinging pendulously

from shoulders

Where I sit.

​

He is a force of nature,

a smile from ear to ear.

His face creases with laughter

and a lump forms in my throat.

Love, unspoken, walks in his giant footsteps.

​

My father can create things.

He can bend and break things,

To his will.

​

His knowledge eclipses me.

Understanding, compassion

given freely when I ache.

​

He has the heart of ten men,

courage in the face of fear.

His words fall like great drops of rain in a drought.

​

My father is ill now.

He is small and sad,

a burst thought.

​

His eyes shine blue,

Mine, a perfect rendering of his own.

We sit together in silence,

enjoying the moment.

His father before him,

reflected in us both.

​

Now it seems I am the land mass.

And he is an island.

​

Feedback:

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https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9h2o3e/the_absence_of/e6azrs1/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9gkpkt/impressions_of_what/e6azkkq/