For my father
Looking at you
is like staring at the sun:
at first it is something thrilling,
if slightly dangerous, to do,
but then the tears start,
and soon I am blinded.
In the case of the sun,
it is the glowing of the orb,
burning from the great chasm
of space beyond,
but with you it is memories
of the days when
sunlight meant warmth,
and days overflowing with
youthful happiness
and the oblivion of the naive.
I long to go back
to a time when safety and certainty
could be found in your arms,
and when "home" meant
wherever you were.
I want to live in the moments
when you loved me
and I wasn't your burden,
before tragedy estranged you from me,
and other loves took my place.
I want to go back
to those heartbeats of adrenaline
before I was blinded by tears
and memories
of those golden days in the sun of my youth.
YOU ARE READING
furthermore
PoetryA poetic diary of sorts. A collection of poems chronicling my depression, suicidal ideation, and my journey through therapy.
