To my father
(2013)
This trembling grief is for a long lost soul, a young, guileless child I once knew as me. I truly believed
I hide here behind a genuine misbelief that I am special, I am different I and only I
Neon lights buzzed in staccato out… Sleep seemed something I dare not… I took myself looking to ease my a… keeping to steamy side-streets and… heading for the part of town beyon…
1998.... while touring india.... exploring the town of rishikesh a popular hindu pilgrimage site along the banks of the holy mother…
I’m not really here right now. I can only be here when no-one’s a… and I know no-one can see me. Even when i speak to you, I’m sort of not really here.
Something whispers, certainly not nothing. A subtle impetus to choose to stir and rise
A sudden gust of bitter wind from somewhere hot and foul, whooped and howled throughout the scattered waste and scrabble down that God-forsaken alley.
While in repose, still and silent, it is not nothing that I hear. Subtle whispers
It is me. I am stripped down to my most naked intentions; having worn so many coats and less than noble guises.
Forgiveness? Not on your life. My life was stolen from me. For what?
The old man, who thinks he’s dying, approached me with these words. I am sorry
Your end? My end? Where the hell’s the middle? You say this. I say that.
I am seven years old. My brother is ten. The beating was brutal. My brother is recovering conscious… I believed he was dead.
Oh, knower of my heart, this trembling voice cries out in words that cannot begin to tell how deep my longing is for thee.
Sweet Mary Jane bade me follow where she led. I went eagerly. She was my life’s one true love. All the others,