not good, but honest
20 years
you’ve haunted me
and I’ve lived more in the haunting than in the knowing.
You’ll forgive me if I don’t want to be haunted anymore.
I may forgive myself.
To reject your ghost
is to be torn again—
this time to tear myself.
What will regrow?
Or reattach?
Am I right to be more afraid than hopeful?
Can you understand peace?
Can you give it?
3 comments:
Hi Dave,
I like your poem... I guess I can identify. For a long time I identified myself as the girl whose Dad is dead. And now that I'm ready to let that go, what to find?
Lizzie
this is great dave. it is very honest, i am instantly in your shoes and can empathize. i hope you'll continue posting more of your writing.
e: what to find ... and will it be better?
s: thanks :)
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