An Absent Father Poem by Anisa Tara

If my father were standing here today,
Only sorrow would mar his face.
For all that he held on to in life,
His daughter is a disgrace.

None of his words I remember,
His advice I do not recall.
I know though, when his ramblings began,
We would run away from the hall.

He was a man of assorted pain,
In vain, he hollowed their remembrance.
I stand here today, years older,
And see an uncanny resemblance.

He was a master at the arts,
Although his fingers were stiff.
Pretense and falsification,
Among his finest tricks.

All was hidden deep within,
A Pandora's box not unlike my own.
He shared life's joys with strangers,
With his seed he preferred to be alone.

He spoke only to chasten,
And from his mouth came fire.
I searched for love among the embers,
Oh, how quickly did I tire!

A sentence or a few words,
Were sometimes vocalised.
'My dear do not fall for his wiles, '
My mother would sternly advise.

Consequent to my buttering,
He would present his requests.
'Please do this for me, '
I always gave in to his behests.

But I have told a cunning lie,
He still lives and breathes.
No matter, he could be a vegetable,
My father is dead to me.

I am a spent twenty-something,
Pursuing this absence inside.
In futility I will await this love,
From the only one who can provide.

Till then I knock on random doors,
Of fathers who can take his place.
It doesn't help, nothing does,
To fill this empty space.

I had a curious encounter once,
With a father and his family.
A girl begged for a toy,
He consented so quickly.

At this wonderful sight,
I stared in amazement.
'He would have only shouted, '
My brother nodded in agreement.

All tales must come to a close,
Mine has yet to see ending.
It will come with my last breath,
Freed of my paternal suffering.

Fathers, be good to your children,
Especially your little girls.
Lord knows there isn't more room,
For broken hearts in this world.