The Father’s Curse

 

I am not  the man you used to be

 

the acorn falling softly

in the shade of your tree

raising ungrateful sons

to their own prosperity

fighting a war

so that others could be free

the nurturing of potential

that you swore you couldn’t see

expected to take root

and share your ancient symmetry

being a loving father

when it wasn’t meant to be

going to art school

instead of the factory

praying to Bacchus

forsaking your sobriety

smashing the locks

instead of looking for the key

abandoning the slippers

for terminal velocity

footsteps in virgin snow

instead of following the ley

not pre-ordained to be you

following my own destiny

not a chip off the old block

but a splinter satyagrahi

the ghost in the shaving mirror

staring back at me

 

no

I am not the man you used to be