Credit: thegrio.comI hope my words go beyond the shores and find you some day. (Son to a father)
Dear dad, these words that are written and spoken, because my heart and soul, slowly wilts, now it’s broken. I laugh to keep myself from crying, behind smiles I hide, a mask I wear, enshroud myself from the glaring looks of reality, scars gather to heal, like tributaries headed for an ocean of deliverance.
I ask for the truth, truthfully speaking the truth hurts, I’m beyond hurting, with all the pains and scars I still learnt to forgive and forget. Forgive inspite of all the years and tears lost, wondering if I was ever loved, all I needed was a father I could call mine.
The echoes and silence in my life was so loud, my broken superman dull was all I could call company, the darkness was my forth, cold sweat in my tears I drown.
Relationship some times doesn’t go as planned, people break up and don’t make up, but why are we not together, why couldn’t we create a place call home, mum could have found another man, but where do I go in search for a father? You never left any lessons on my wall for me to learn from. I try to get you off my mind, but can’t get you off my face. I see you each time I look at the main in the mirror, nothing I could do, but tell God to bless me, because my life was complicated, my love was amputated, now my heart is a quiet battle field.
Memories haunt me, tales of mum picking broken furniture on the floor, quiet steps she took, slowly she open the door, crying half way into the night, another road trip, another lonely high way, another bruise anther scar to hide, times I wonder, how I ever made it through. Seasons pass, another Christmas in a strange place, a house far from the serenity of a home.
I cry these words to heal my wounds because the little boy in me still looks beyond horizons waiting for you to come back to any place we call home. For 25 years, I waited for his knock on my door, waited for him to come teach me a lot in life, like how to walk and talk like a man, how to shave with gentles strokes, how to stand and fight for what you believe, waited for him to come show me the beauty of a having a family. Now my arms are wide open filled with the emptiness of his absence.
Every day of my life is a cross roads between a gift and a curse, between strife and pains, between the writings on the wall and the lost words amongst men. Having the luxury of choice, doesn’t make decision any easier. The tears from her eyes (my mother) is dark and salty, wish I could be the one to put that smile on her face again. A grown man I am, but still in search for my child hood.
