Father Poem by RIC BASTASA

as father begs, the son in a compromise
goes with him in that dome
where there are candles
some have already burned themselves
and some have just been lighted
by the hand of the caretaker.

there had been so many misunderstandings
unresolved anger
the son keeps the hate as the father keeps
the silence
there is no available explanation
there is simply none to mention
for the moment

the father looks behind and tells the son
i am of the past
my candle melted to the ground
there is no rekindling

the father points to him another candle
about to end its life
and he tells the son, that is yours

the father is talking about a life of the past
and the shrinking future
the son now must explain too
how hate kept him
there is no explanation
there is simply nothing to mention

the candles melt to the ground
offering a smoke as left-over of its short existence
that is the only possible explanation