My old man

I saw him last night.

He was standing there in slippers,

Pajamas,

Bathrobe tied tight.

He said —

He had trouble with his hearing,

He had trouble with his sight,

But, he said,

Don’t worry, Jonathan,

It’s all right.

Though I tried to stay away

Tried with all my might,

I couldn’t stay away —

Not from him,

No —

Not with him

Smiling,

Beckoning me,

Saying,

Jonathan, Jonathan, please,

It’s been a long time.

I’ve missed you,

Missed you, please…

Yet I was saying

Daddy, Daddy, please,

You’re five years too late.

Five years, 

I couldn’t wait, 

I couldn’t wait…

Please…

but he was standing there,

Smiling —

And tears rolled down his cheek.

And then, suddenly,

Softly, mine — mine…

I couldn’t speak.

I gasped —

Running to his arms,

Hugging him as I was

Once to him in those arms,

My old man’s kid

Crying in his arms.

Crying —

Sliding to peace.

Cuddling —

Cuddling on our knees

In peace.

And he whispered,

It’s all right,

Jonathan, sh-h-h-h-h…

It’s all right.

My old man’s been dead

For five years,

But I was his child

Last night.

Categories: Poetry, Selection: Early Years