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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