Father

You were not the hero but the villain in my story.

I have tried in my heart to forgive you

Though you never said I’m sorry.

I needed a hero in my childhood fantasies,

But you were the ogre and the tyrant,

Tormentor and jailer who held the keys.

You wanted me submissive, an object you owned; 

I broke the doors to my cage; to escape from

your violence and threats, I had to leave home.

I tried to cut you out of my life with sweet pain—

A slice of my arm, offered in atonement;

They stitched me together, survivor I remain.

Father, I hope you prepare for a good death—

I fear you won’t go gently into that good night;

You will rage, rage, rage, fighting with each breath.

Father, I want to forgive your sins of the past.

So when you're released from this mortal coil,

Perhaps we’ll both find peace at last.

© Knightwriter,  April 2012

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