[poem]

I don’t know how to begin.
Now is the winter-
...winter is what’s left for us. & it’s a sin.
Too much time is never enough; too much rhyme is gonna get tough
so let’s
be

free... to find the words that really. Express, me.
What’s in my heart since you left, since I spoke, & you didn’t listen
.
Walked out the door & passed me off someone else’s problem “see what you can do”.

I’ve got feelings too. Passion, compassion, fashioned into:
a heart; living, beating. A mind; racing, thinking. A soul; hoping praying, wishing wanting.
A man,
& he didn’t blame you, or not you alone. With or without you I a l w a y s blame-

me.
But you heard, what you expected to hear. What you heard all those times
I said it. & still when I didn’t -you heard in your mind( is’t nobler?). But it wasn’t from my mind,
or heart or soul. I am not that boy. I am that man, so I spoke other words
but you don’t listen.

I’m not that man

that you hoped for. Wished for. Dreamed of; wanted me to be

wanted me to be... on that road... I took the other, without you;
it wanted wear. It calls to me. & you don’t listen
-
I’ll never be
.
I can’t( I cant)-
...be what I’m not. But I’m a good man, a kind man,
a strong man, & honest.( Is’t?) I do wish the man I am
could be the right man for you, but not to be the man I’m not. That man, not; yet I’m
an honest man & if I couldn’t be whom you wanted I at least
told you whom I am. But you don’t see me

as I am; I told you whom I am. And that I love. And I love you.
I always say a real love is forever, no matter what.
But you don’t listen.

And I yelled but the distance
(the distance) is too great. And I made it wider. & I’m sorry
I yelled. I just wanted to be heard, but it always feels like- you don’t listen.

I remember when we smiled, & laughed. And rolled in the grass & flew on the summer breeze.
And now when we forget, for a minute, winter; we smile & we dream & exist. But nothing gold
can... Now tears race down my cheeks, fall on my hands.

I am good I am kind I am honest. I am shrewd I am aware I am thoughtful.
I am proud I am stubborn I am sure. I am hot I am cold I am severe. I am you
& not at all you; will, never be. I’m me; I am only the man I was meant to be; I am also the man you made me, too.
(I play on the world stage as once on a stone, when the sky would be falling; dear Atlas.)
And everyone else, they made me /tu/. The voices cry out in me, have life in me; ...but you don’t listen.

I can’t be anything but what I am in each moment. I wouldn’t if I could, I love me- thanks to you. Most people don’t

love themselves. Ever. It’s an immeasurable treasure.
I owe each & every person who has loved me, they are legion; & you among the most of all. Thank you

& I’m sorry I yelled. We can’t take back the past... or I would steal back precious heat; & I’d hold
you holding me.

I love you & I’m sorry & I wish we could go back
and fly kites ’til the summer sun sets
but you’ll probably never know. You’ll never know if you don’t listen.
In our grassy field there’re no more children( leaf subsides...),
will never again be children.( I’ll find a new field for my children.) Still I’m waiting in the old field

but you don’t see me.
’Cuz you won’t see me.
And you won’t listen.

Listen.

Listen: A Poem for My Father

[© October, 2011, orriginally posted at http://AJournalGuy.LiveJournal.com/80532.html]