I used to believe that my daughter would forgive me. I believed the reassuring words of family, friends, clergy, and even strangers that she would call when she got older.
During that period, my poems centered on fond memories. Those poems reassured me, keeping my faith alive through all those days of silence.
The Secret Lagoon
She and I
our dog made three
the boat alive with
banging of oars
skittering of dog nails
giggles and laughter erupting
blue sky
water wet
all combining
into a merry calliope.
Gliding
across Lake Mamie
dodging mountain peaks
reflected on the still surface
passing over tree tops
high
racing clouds floating
swift
time stood still
that special day
loved and loving.
After years of waiting to hear from her the hopelessness becoming near unbearable, I searched the web for glimpses of her name. A picture became like buried treasure to my soul. She continues to be in my life every day. Denial became my occasional comfort.
Zippered
Breath of the years
separating us
escapes as the zipper
follows its path
one tooth to the next.
The imagined scent
of joys and family accomplishments
perfumes my memory
first tickets to Disneyland
honors for this and that
the Daddy I love you cards
funny pictures
invitations to school musicals
and your hand-made birthday cards
I thought would never end
and
there
at the end of the book
the I hate you letter
you wrote at thirteen
for not letting you grow up.
The pages stop turning
shut well
you’re all grown up now
and gone
no birthday cards for me.
The embossed word
Scrapbook on the cover
screams off the cover
as I zipper it safely
back into time
and its protective
see-through bag
sadly accepting
is too much for me
today.
Now, I believe she may never call me. I am able to accept that. Sadly, I remember how I felt or how I came not to feel about my father. I now understand how all those years of my silence must have pained him so.
I do understand
I left hurt her
not just her mother.
She was young
abandoned
mad and sad… mad and sad.
She was powerless to stop it
instead
she took back her love
it was all she could do
wrapped in anger
it felt safe and warm
the heated words
gave way to a smoldering resentment
silence.
Estranged
I have her in my life
barred from hers.
I do understand
powerlessness
and pain.
I used to believe.
Now I only hope.
Bob Renard
During that period, my poems centered on fond memories. Those poems reassured me, keeping my faith alive through all those days of silence.
The Secret Lagoon
She and I
our dog made three
the boat alive with
banging of oars
skittering of dog nails
giggles and laughter erupting
blue sky
water wet
all combining
into a merry calliope.
Gliding
across Lake Mamie
dodging mountain peaks
reflected on the still surface
passing over tree tops
high
racing clouds floating
swift
time stood still
that special day
loved and loving.
After years of waiting to hear from her the hopelessness becoming near unbearable, I searched the web for glimpses of her name. A picture became like buried treasure to my soul. She continues to be in my life every day. Denial became my occasional comfort.
Zippered
Breath of the years
separating us
escapes as the zipper
follows its path
one tooth to the next.
The imagined scent
of joys and family accomplishments
perfumes my memory
first tickets to Disneyland
honors for this and that
the Daddy I love you cards
funny pictures
invitations to school musicals
and your hand-made birthday cards
I thought would never end
and
there
at the end of the book
the I hate you letter
you wrote at thirteen
for not letting you grow up.
The pages stop turning
shut well
you’re all grown up now
and gone
no birthday cards for me.
The embossed word
Scrapbook on the cover
screams off the cover
as I zipper it safely
back into time
and its protective
see-through bag
sadly accepting
is too much for me
today.
Now, I believe she may never call me. I am able to accept that. Sadly, I remember how I felt or how I came not to feel about my father. I now understand how all those years of my silence must have pained him so.
I do understand
I left hurt her
not just her mother.
She was young
abandoned
mad and sad… mad and sad.
She was powerless to stop it
instead
she took back her love
it was all she could do
wrapped in anger
it felt safe and warm
the heated words
gave way to a smoldering resentment
silence.
Estranged
I have her in my life
barred from hers.
I do understand
powerlessness
and pain.
I used to believe.
Now I only hope.
Bob Renard