The Day My Old Man Cried

A MAN OF IRON

Hard as Corundum

Anger, belt and pain

A MAN MADE CRUEL

False savior complex

Ruled with tyrant’s reign

A MAN OF ANGER

Consumed with violence

Breeding broken sons

A MAN NOT KNOWING

Cripples destiny

Futures now undone

A MAN ABANDONED

Everyone left him

Free now to forget

A MAN NOW SADDENED

With crumbled kingdom

Faces deep regret

As usual, you were reading your newspaper that morning…and I was re-reading you, still after all these years struggling to solve the motive behind all the madness of the past.

Forced compassion on my part, restraining angry demons buried deep within the dungeons of my soul.

When others deserted you in your weakened state, unbinding themselves of you – I came back. I came home. Why?

A sense of duty? Mutual benefits? The right thing to do? An amalgam of many things I suppose.

A typical weekday morning it was until I saw your paper abruptly convulsing in your hands.

I rushed to your side thinking you were having a seizure or some other medical emergency.

Only to discover tears streaming down your face. Confused I asked, “What’s wrong Dad?”

Your sobs were like instrumental bridges between lyrics of overdue apologies composing a song of lament…“Sorry for all the pain I caused; I treated you so badly; You never deserved all the pain I caused you; I want your mom to come back home to me; and I’d do anything to get her back.”

For many years, I longed to hear you say those words but had given up hope for my own spiritual and mental well-being.

All I could do in that moment was hug you and say, “I love you, Dad. It’s going to be OK.”

A decade plus has gone since that moment in time and on melancholy days I look back on that memory most cherished and think about the day my old man cried.