Sometimes, I see my father in me.
On grey days and rainy days, especially
When the clouds gather and the sun goes down
I swear, I become my father.
On days like these, when I look into the mirror
I expect my voice and my smile will be his and
That peculiar look of questioning of his
Suddenly becomes a part of me.
And I try to think of what he would do,
And what he would say
In times of crisis, confusion
And, especially, on the holidays.
There was a sadness about him
As though he didn’t belong –
And I could never reach him –
He was in another world.
At Christmas and Thanksgiving
Or on any happy, party type occasion,
He seemed out of place, out of time –
Long lost in some awkward past.
But, I loved him and he loved me.
Though we could never say it
Or reach out to each other.
We were on different frequencies.
But, on grey days and rainy days, especially
When the clouds gather and the sun goes down
I swear, I become my father
And, perhaps, he becomes me.
