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House On The Edge of Town

More and more
my thoughts turn to you
so aware of time
I’m the age now
that you were
when the pair of you parted
you got that rented house
on the edge of town

We’d stay at weekends
watching winter’s tide sweep in
standing in the falling snow
the garden and the fields disappearing
said ‘throw another log on the fire’
said ‘dad, your house is cold’

At fifteen, I was nothing
lost i...

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Father

You ask if I believe in God...
How can I not?

To deny my Father
means I leave my existence
to some 30 year old predator
who impregnated a girl half his age
and left her to raise their child
in the wilderness, among wolves 
that feed on loneliness and despair.

Without my Father, I would never know
that after suffering comes deliverance,
pain leads to compassion,
forgiveness breaks b...

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Mother

You neglected me, 

didn’t protect me, 

abandoned me,

chose an abusive man 

over your children... 

I forgive you. 

I give you the

unconditional affection

never afforded me,

because I love you 

despite everything 

and I don’t want 

the past having 

power over me.

 

https://youtu.be/KtNYA4pAGjI

 

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Dear Ezra Bebot,

The first time I saw you, your mouth held no words.
I would take you out and watch you marvel at the birds.

Your awkward waddle would bring me smiles.
There was peace in my life holding you as we walked for miles.

The screaming, the crying, the testing,
The laughing, the hugging, the learning.

As I helped you grow, and loved every moment.
Even the ones that involved your excrement.

...

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A Note to Those With Limits to Their Love

I was not there when he was made
I was not there when he was born
I was not there for his first birthday

I was, there to guide his first steps.

I was there when his mother voiced her disdane and pushed him away.

For the tantrums that felt eternal

The sick days that became my sick days

I was there as his father began a new family and forgot about his last.

When he had no food to...

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My father's gift

I remember hearing my father's voice

      from beyond the grave.

      No dream—a single, scratchy vinyl

      had captured his characteristic

      lilting, homiletic style,

      that seemed,

       in and of itself,

       to be the message—

       no surprises there,

       nor flights,

       yet a resonance

       that touched

       and stays with me

...

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